The Case of the Dying Detective
by SimmonsButterflys
Summary: Something terrible has happened to John Watson and Sherlock looks outside the box for help. Little does he suspect that alien material is the only thing that can save his dying blogger. The Doctor makes a call to retrieve something that Donna lost and finds himself reacquainted with an old companion. During all this John finds some frightening secrets about himself and Sherlock.
1. Good Luck

_Hello, dear readers. This is a story that will never be published. This is a story that will be forgotten and never remembered. This is a story of love and pain, of lose and gain, of friendship and loyalty, and of truth and lies. Yes, this is a story that not even John H. Watson will ever remember or even read. This story is the beginning and the end of a hero._

 _This is a story that will change the course of history in the hearts of a blogger and a high-functioning sociopath, but they will never know that the change of heart has come about. They won't know why they feel a new strength in their friendship, nor why they feel as though they need to protect one another better. They will only believe in one another all the more and trust the other to catch them when life pulls them down._

 _This is the story of many names; it has been called, 'A Case of Identity', 'The Timeless Hero', 'The Missing Schoolmates', 'The Case of the Man with a Changing Face' and even 'The Case of the Broken Watch'. You may call it any one of those names but the name that I will call it is: 'The Case of the Dying Detective'._

 _Prepare yourself because I have put this in a seal that is virtually unbreakable. If you are reading this you have either: broken into the system, or this has been sent to you. If you haven't broken into the system the situation is urgent. Please read this carefully, chapters will be slowly unlocked. Just remember one thing; if you are reading this then the Detective is needed. Find him. How? Why? Well, look for a watch…as for why; obviously, he's needed. The world (or the universe) is in danger. It's up to you to find him but he'll need proof. Read this story; this story is your proof._

 _So, read the story, find the watch, and give it to the Detective. That's it. That's all you need to do! But hurry! Your very life may depend on it. Good luck._

 _-The Doctor_


	2. Pro-blog

**Hello! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, it means the world to me! This is an idea that I have to give half (maybe more) of the credit to my sister. If it weren't for her, this story wouldn't exist!**

 **So thanks, sister mine!**

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 **Unfortunately** **, I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who and I probably never will so let's just assume that for the remainder of this story.**

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 _…Sherlock and I were having the time of the century as we jumped back from the building. The thought of the moment was to run to safety before the grenade went off. Together we charged towards the closest cover or the parking lot and the three lone cars in it. We dogged behind the first vehicle we could. Seconds later, the building lost all of its windows on the fifth floor. Glass rained down and slammed against the pavement. Our call hadn't brought the police fast enough but the explosion quickly brought five or six of their blaring cars to the scene. Sherlock stood up and glanced around,_

" _Is everyone okay?" he asked as he glanced towards the other two cars in the parking lot. Since it was a Saturday there hadn't been a ton of people working at that particular building. Those who had been in the building stood shakily up from their hiding places and two of the women began to sob and thank Sherlock for saving them. Sherlock glanced at me as if trying to ask me to deal with the sentiment that was deeply affecting my fellow humans. Sherlock just doesn't seem to get how the human body works. There are certain aspects that he just can't find in himself. In answer to his silent plea I answered the shaken survivors,_

" _It's our job to make sure that everyone's okay. The police can take care of you now. They'll help you get home." Already there were news trucks pulling up and Sherlock and I made our quiet escape from the action. That's how it always happened. The officer in charge here would get all the credit in the newspapers. You however, dear readers, know the truth and perhaps, some day, the truth will be known to everyone about the Case of the Empty Bottle._

John closed his laptop after hitting save. He silently stood up and glanced around the empty room before he picked up the portable computer and walked out. Some moments later he stood in front of a very familiar door and it was on this that he knocked three times. It was answered by his therapist who smiled when she saw his laptop tucked under his arm.

"How's Mary?" she asked as she poured John a glass of water,

"Fine," the army doctor answered, "She's as well as a woman undergoing her final months of pregnancy can be." He smiled when his therapist laughed. He opened his laptop and turned it on. After pulling up his latest post he handed his computer across to the woman opposite him. As he watched her read he noted each of her expressions. When she was finished she closed the computer and sighed,

"Another thrilling entry, John," She praised him and saw a smile alight on his face, "just one thing," she continued and Dr. Watson turned his now expressionless face to the floor. He knew what she was going to ask him, "Have you put up that Sherlock isn't actually real, yet?"

 _Theme song begins to play_

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 **Yeah...the part before this was kinda like a pro-log for the pro-log...the first chapter is coming up though! I promise!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	3. Chapter 1: Blogging for Looks

**Hi again! Thanks to every one who's reviewed so far! It got you two chapters! This story is quite confusing I realized...things will begin to clear up as you read but if there are any questions (that don't include spoilers) I'll try to clear anything up as best I can.**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or Doctor Who. :( I do however, know how to make cake! :D**

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John walked into the house and set his keys on the table, "Mary I'm home." he called through the hallway, "I brought home the milk you wanted!" He listened for a reply but got none. Fear clutched him as he hurried into the living room only to find Mary fast asleep on the couch of 221B. Mrs. Hudson looked up from whatever she was pulling out of the oven,

"She looked exhausted," the landlady explained, "so I just popped up and said, 'Mary, why don't you let me finish with the cookies, you take a nap.' So she laid down about ten minutes ago and I'm all finished now with the cookies so I'll leave you to whatever you need to do." She smiled and turned to go,

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, you're a saint." John told her as she closed the door behind her. After Mrs. Hudson left John put away the groceries and cleaned up the kitchen. With nothing else to do he sat down and pulled open his laptop,

" _What are you typing?"_ A voice asked. John looked up to see Sherlock sitting at the dining room table filling several test tubes with some kind of liquid. John looked back down at his computer before turning back to the tall figure,

"I was just going to look up where it would be best to get a stroller, that's all." He replied,

" _Oh, how dull. You could be doing something more exciting you know."_ Sherlock muttered,

"Yeah?" John asked, "Like what?"

" _Oh, I don't know, what's new in the crime section of the paper?"_ Sherlock demanded. John picked up the paper and began to flip through it,

"Uh, here's something, "Man Offers Reward for the Finding of his Stolen Antique Ring", what do you think about that?"

" _That? I read it through already, it was obviously the man's daughter. She gave it to her lover through the window and he, in turn, went out and sold it for a handsome price. Just wait and watch, she'll go missing in a few days and no one will know what's become of her."_

"My goodness, shouldn't we do something about it?" John asked in some awe, "It seems quite unfair to the poor girl's father."

" _I suppose you could type it up and maybe someone will have the audacity to actually listen to you."_

"It's worth a try."

" _Quite right, I need you to stop talking to me right now, I'm busy."_

"Alright then, don't push." John turned back to his computer and then, a little while later he posted his newest story. He glanced up at the dining room once more only to find that the test tubes were gone as well as the consulting detective. He stood up and wandered into the kitchen. There he put the kettle on and began to boil some water for tea. Mary moved slightly and sighed as she opened her eyes,

"Hey, John," she mumbled, "how long have I been out for?" John glanced up at the clock,

"From when I first got here? Fifty minutes or so." Mary nodded and then groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. "I made tea." John put in, "Do you want some?"

Mary smiled, "tea would be lovely, thanks dear." John handed her a cup after he had prepared it just like how she desired. He sat down on one of the chairs with his own cup and picked up the news paper his eyes rolled down the crime section and they scanned through the different events. A murder, a theft, plenty of missing pets and several ads tossed in as well.

John sighed and tried to focus on other sections of the news. It seemed to be difficult though. He kept hearing his therapist's voice asking him over and over again if he had posted on his blog about Sherlock not being real. Nobody got it. Sherlock **was** real. At least, he was real to John Watson. Some people might have accused him as having an imaginary friend but Sherlock was different than an imaginary friend. He wasn't there when John was bored or needed someone to talk to; Sherlock was there whenever **he** was bored or when **he** seemed like he needed to talk to someone. There was a distinct difference. John tried to help Sherlock when he was feeling this way but sometimes it was a trifle inconvenient and it could get rather bothersome. If the army doctor tried to ignore the tall man Sherlock seemed to grow more and more real and irksome.

But then there were those moments that everything seemed to change. His mood, his house, the world even would seem to just change on him. Sometimes it was the lack of traffic, other times it was people in the street. It felt odd. Like something was out of place. John had often wondered this but he had never gotten very far into investigating it. There had always been something in the way or he just didn't feel like it. These were the times that he felt…wrong. John shook his head and shooed the thoughts from his mind, he needed some fresh air. With a grunt he got up and walked down the stairs. Upon exiting the building he began his usual walk routine and turned left down Baker St. Eventually, he would end up back home but right now he needed to think.

Cars whizzed by him and people went about their business. John glanced at each person as they passed him. A woman with her hair in a tight ponytail was reading a book and headed straight for a telephone pole, a man strolled by swinging an umbrella as he walked, another man stood on a corner before a crosswalk looking at a map, and another woman passed Watson texting with her black, curly hair bouncing as she walked she looked at John as she passed him and seemed on the verge of saying something before seeming to change her mind and move on. Something was off. John turned around and began re-walking the way he came. Everyone still was going about their walks as if nothing in the world was scheduled for them to get to. John glanced at the man standing at the crosswalk, trying to decide if he should help him. He turned to go ask him if he needed assistance and almost ran into the girl with the book,

"Excuse me," he apologized but the female paid him no heed and simply moved on. John shook his head. Some people were real book worms.

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 **This one is actually very important. John will be confronted with some shocking news in the next chapter (dun, Dun DUN!).**

 **Yours in Christ,**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	4. Chapter 2: Doctor Who?

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaand, here's the next chapter, just like promised!**

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John decided to move on to get a drink. He entered the pub. The room was filled with laughter from both men and women alike. Everyone was crowded together causing the room to be flooded with warmth. The smell of beer and other various liquids filled the building along with the symphony of clinking glasses. John glanced around wondering if he looked as out-of-place as he felt at the moment.

 _"Try and make some friends."_ Mary had begged him, _"You need someone to rant to while I'm sleeping."_ John sighed; she had really meant that he needed to find someone other than Sherlock to talk to. Mary sided with his therapist. They both told him that Sherlock wasn't real; John himself had begun to believe it but now there were more and more moments when he caught glimpses of Sherlock. Moments when he didn't need Sherlock and Sherlock didn't need him they were just instances when Sherlock seemed to 'break' into his vision and disappear a few moments later.

John found himself at the counter and he ordered a drink. A man standing next to him was just wishing farewell to his friend,

"Yeah, I'll see you on Monday, then!" The man turned back to his drink and seemed to get lost in thought. John glanced up at the telly but the commercial break was on at the moment. The man next to him cut into his thoughts,

"No game on tonight. It got canceled because of some freak lightning strikes." John glanced at the man and nodded briefly. He knew that the game had been cancelled…where did he hear that? How did he know again? "My name's Greg, Greg Lestrade." The man said extending his hand,

"I'm John Watson…Dr. John Watson," John replied, grasping Greg's hand in his own. Greg smiled.

"Here, have one on me," he said as he signaled the waiter.

"…Thanks?" John hesitated. The DI chuckled,

"Not used to this sort of thing then?"

"Not really," John admitted, "Mary said I should try it out."

"And who exactly is Mary?" Lestrade prompted. Before long the two men had traded stories and phone numbers. Lestrade told John that he came to the pub every other Saturday. John promised to meet him as often as he could. Then the two men parted ways.

As John stepped outside the building he heard a sound like someone sobbing. Another voice seemed to be trying to sooth or comfort whoever was crying. Obviously, the voice wasn't use to having to comfort someone, it didn't sound like soothing was working anyway. The two sounds seemed to be getting closer…or were they getting further away?

"Hello?" John called, "Is someone there?" The two voices stopped, almost like they were listening. John looked around. The street was brightly light but there was no one around, at least, no one who was crying. John shook his head and turned down the road towards home. As he walked he turned back once more but his gaze met an empty parking lot. From one of the many windows of the pub he just left a woman watched the army doctor leave. She turned and walked deeper into the throng of people and through the back door.

 _Monday morning…_

John sat up in bed and glanced at the clock, 6:32. He smiled to himself; he wasn't going to be late to work this morning! He slid out of bed and began to make breakfast. After that he sat down with his plate of food before him, Mary smiled as she too seated herself. They ate as they talked over what John had done last night. Mary was overjoyed to hear that John had found a fellow male that he readily called his friend. Once they finished eating, John kissed his wife and left the flat,

"Have a good day, Mrs. Hudson!" He called as he passed by her door,

"You too, dear!" She replied. John smiled and stepped outside.

Dr. Watson pushed open the doors to St. Bart's hospital and glanced around the waiting room on the 5th floor: three men, five women, and a young lady sitting in the corner reading a book. John smiled at them all as he walked through the door to the back and set his back pack on the examination table. He saw the different patients and at exactly 12:00 he ate his lunch. After he ate his lunch he strolled down the different hallways. As he re-approached his own examination room he paused. At the end of the hallway he saw Sherlock leaning against the wall, his hands folded under his chin. Sherlock watched as several different doctors and nurses entered and left the room at the end of the hall.

"Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock didn't pay him any heed. Instead, he lifted his head as a woman, clad all in black, jogged towards the detective with her arms reaching out to him. Sherlock met her in her embrace. Sherlock whispered something in her ear; pushing her blond hair out of the way as he did so. The woman turned. John tried to see her face only to find that it was covered by a black veil. Together they entered the room at the end of the hall. John's curiosity got the better of him,

 _Who was this woman who could connect to Sherlock? Why did she have her face covered? What was in the room at the end of the hall anyway?_

So John decided to find out. Slowly, he moved closer. He almost felt like he was doing a forbidden thing. Looking at the door number of a hospital room wasn't illegal though, was it? John shoved the question from his mind. All the same, he crossed the hall so that he was on the side opposite of the door. There was a mummer of voices coming from the room. A woman gave a slight gasp. John took a deep breath and moved another five steps closer. The room was directly across from him now. Time seemed to stop as he leaned closer. He couldn't believe his eyes.

The door number clearly read: 221B, but that wasn't his cause of alarm. To one side of the door was a clipboard with the patient's name typed in large letters across the top. This is what caused Dr. Watson's heart to skip a beat; the name that was printed clearly read 'Watson, John Hamish'.

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 **There are actually some hints in here about what's _really_ going on...will I tell them to you? Nope. But a very special someone will very soon. **

**Yours in Christ,**

 **SimmonsButterflys**


	5. Chapter 3: Tick-Tock Goes the Clock

**I meant to upload this yesterday but then life happened so...yeah.**

 **I watched the first episode of season 3 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. last Tuesday...Spoilers.**

 **Okay, so it might be a good idea to re-read the chapter before this. Read carefully and maybe you'll pick up on the little hints that I've placed in there.**

 **Anyhoo, enjoy this next chapter!**

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 **Disclaimer: I still don't own BBC but I bet you already knew that.**

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John tried to keep his mind on his job but the name on the door kept hold of his mind.

" _How could someone have the exact same name as me? No, scratch that, who could possibly have the same name as me and be in the exact same building?"_ The end of the day seemed to come more slowly than usual for the army doctor. At last, he pushed open his front door and stepped into 221B. Mrs. Hudson was folding clothes and the whole entry way smelled like fresh laundry. John smiled as he opened the door to his and Mary's main living area.

"Welcome home, dear." Mary smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. John felt peace for the first time since he was in the hospital; whatever had happen must have just been a coincidence, right? John shoved the idea from his mind, tonight he just wanted to relax. Mary was saying something and John snapped back to reality,

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was thinking." He apologized. Mary smirked and rolled her eyes,

"I said, 'there was a man who came over today looking for you.' I told him that you had tomorrow off so he could stop by then. He said he'd be here by 10AM."

John sat up in bed and blinked. The clock read 9:30AM. He got up and pulled on his bathrobe. Mary was already cooking breakfast for three.

"I figured that whoever's coming over might want some coffee cake." She said cheerily; then she laughed, "Are you going to meet him while you're in your pajamas?" she asked. John looked down at himself and then retreated to the bedroom to change.

He looked at himself in the small area he had cleared in the foggy mirror; now he looked presentable. Mary called to him from the kitchen,

"Cath just called! I'm going to meet her for brunch!"

"Okay." John answered as he entered the kitchen and gave Mary a quick kiss, "See you when you get home then." Mary smiled as she picked up her purse and left the flat. The clock read 9:50 AM. John took a deep breath and placed the last plate on the table. Everything was ready: the table was set, the place cleaned up, everything was in its correct place John glanced at the clock again, 9:53. Ugh, time always crawled so slowly when one was anticipating something. John sighed as he got lost in thought,

" _What was with the name at the room at the end of the hall? What was it with everything I do? Sometimes it feels like I'm revolving around the same things over and over again. The same strangers, the same patients, the same cars…"_

Four sharp knocks on the flat door brought him back to reality; John stood up from his chair and opened the door. A man stood on the other side, he was dressed in a tan suite and a black umbrella dangled from his arm,

"Hello, Dr. Watson." He breathed in a superior fashion. John blinked and began to pour tea. The new comer continued to stand in the doorway, "Aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked with a faint smile on his lips,

"I did, didn't I?" John hesitated. Now that he thought about it he couldn't remember even asking his name, "I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked,

"My name is Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes." The tall man entered the flat and closed the door; he walked slowly, deliberately over to the table and pulled his chair out; John sat down in his own chair to a plate of food. Mycroft tilted his head and looked at John,

"I prefer to have coffee in the morning, thank you." John stood up and dumped the final scoop of coffee into the machine. He froze, Mycroft was looking at him. How quickly did that take him? John glanced at the clock to see that it very plainly read 10:15. John looked up at Mycroft as he finished pouring the coffee and set it in front of him. The clock read 10:26. Mycroft wasn't paying any attention to John; he was staring at his own watch as he absentmindedly said thank you.

"Are you in a rush?" John asked glancing at the kitchen clock. Mycroft smiled an odd, almost painful looking smile that ended up looking more like a grimace.

"No, I was just noticing that all your clocks are broken."

"What?" John glanced up from his empty plate. Mycroft had only just now taken a sip of his coffee. He set the cup back down and continued,

"Yes, your clocks are unbelievably fast. Your kitchen clock says it is 10:38 and _my_ watch says it's only 10:07 AM." If John had been eating something he probably would have almost choked.

"No…" he breathed, "Your watch must be broken." Mycroft shook his head,

"I just got it looked at yesterday, John. There's nothing wrong with it at all." John's heart began to beat faster and his left hand shook slightly. Mycroft pocketed the watch and resumed eating his breakfast, "John," he said in between bites of food, "I'm here to lay down for you the battle plan."

"What? W-what battle plan? What are you talking about?"

"So many questions so soon. Good, that means you want answers. If you are willing now to listen, I will give you the most valuable and important information in your tiny life." Mycroft rose and began walking over to the two chairs in the living room. John seated himself as Mycroft approached. Mycroft sat down and looked sideways at John, "You do get around, don't you?" John was getting more and more freaked out.

"What's going on?" he demanded. Mycroft gave him that grimace with the ends of his mouth still curved up,

"You have the full right to be having a mental breakdown at the moment; especially since I am the first person you've ever met who is outside your idea of time." Mycroft's face turned solemn and he leaned closer to the army doctor, "John Watson, this world that you're living in isn't the only one out there. There is, in fact, one other world that is known."

"Okay…" John hesitated, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because," Mycroft sighed, "you're the only one who can establish which world is real and which one is fake."

John must have passed out. When he woke up Mycroft was standing over him with a small bottle of smelling-salts. John coughed and pushed the bottle away from his nose. Mycroft tilted his head to one side and looked at his watch again,

"Oh would you stop that?!" John snapped at the older man. Mycroft looked up with a slight look of surprise on his face…or…was that just another grimace? John swung his legs over the side of the couch and prepared to get up,

"Stop," Mycroft's commanding tone caused the army doctor to freeze in place. Mycroft sat down in one of the chairs and looked at John, "I want you to walk over to me." He said simply. John stood up and found himself standing next to Mycroft. The red-head shook his head and sighed, "Try it again." He ordered and John was back on the couch again. This time John hesitated and closed his eyes. He began to imagine the beat of a clock,

'Tick…tock…tick…tock…' the beat continued to play in the army doctor's head; to this beat Watson stood up and carefully moved towards Mycroft. One step-tick-another step-tock-tick-tock, when John opened his eyes after six or seven short steps he saw that Mycroft was smiling,

"Good, very good in fact." Mr. Holmes said in a pleased voice, "I'm surprised that you've managed so quickly. Now," He grimaced, "on to more discussing. I will tell you the differences between the two worlds and then I leave you to choose which world you wish to call home." Mycroft motioned to the chair opposite him. John sat down.

"Okay," He said, "I think I'm ready." Mycroft looked like he seriously doubted that John was ready for anything that he was about to hear.

"Let's start with this world," Holmes said, "In this world you have a good job, a lovely wife, a good flat with a very nice landlady, and you even have a friend." The word 'friend' was spoken as if it was something to be ashamed of, almost like it was some long-forgotten swear word. "Here you lead a very happy, carefree life. There is no sickness where you don't want it and no one you love will die or even age. Here you can have a large family and never lose any of them. Your sister will quit drinking the moment that you request it; you'll get a promotion at work as soon as you hint at wanting one. This is the world, John Watson, which will never experience war, pain, or death. In this world, everything is perfect and everyone is free to do exactly what you think they should be doing." John blinked at the last statement,

"What? So I'm in charge?" He asked with an amused smile. Mycroft tilted his head to the side,

"I'm afraid that you can never stop being in charge. Everything here, quite literally, revolves around you." Mycroft sighed, "No pain, no death, and everybody lives happily ever after, unless you want otherwise. That is option one."

"Option two is?" John asked. Mycroft checked his watch before answering.

"Option two, yes, the 'other world' as you may call it. In the other world there is a very different case of events. People are born everyday but many people also die every day. There are people there that you know and who love you very dearly. You lead an insanely unorganized life style that is wrought with danger, mystery and insanity. You have a lovely wife, who happens to be expecting your first child…and, of course, there's always Sherlock Holmes." John gripped the side of his chair,

"How do you know about Sherlock?" He demanded, "Sherlock is just someone that I made up!" Mycroft looked a trifle shocked at this sudden outburst.

"Oh dear," he said, "You don't really believe that, do you?" The question sounded almost desperate. Like it was imperative that John truly believe in Sherlock Holmes, "You finally 'accepted it', then? Well, what if I told you that Sherlock was real and the moments that you've seen him are moments that he's managed to break through into your world by accident?"

John blinked, "What?" He asked. Mycroft saw that he had only made the poor army doctor more confused. He sighed,

"Sherlock Holmes is real. He has points in time that he wants to see you and just as you have points that you want to see him. When these points occur at the same time there is a weak link that forms through the worlds…like a fogged up window. That's how you are able to see Sherlock at different points. However, he can't see you in this state because you don't want him to." Mycroft explained.

"Of course I want Sherlock to see me!" John claimed. Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow and the statement was dropped.

"Back to the pros and cons of the 'other world'," Mycroft said, "The other world you have no control of and there are bad days, good days, and average days. There are people who are smarter than you as well as people who are dumb and then there are the people who resign on the same level of IQ as you do. There is love and suffering and pain and life and death. In the other world there is no such thing as happily ever after because nothing ever ends." The last few words fell like blocks of lead against concrete. Mycroft reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small circular container; he got up and set it down on the mantel.

"What's that then?" Watson asked. The other man turned to him,

"Memory patches." He said, "I told you that you had to decide which world you wished to live in so now you've got to choose. In this container," Mycroft motioned to the object, "are memory-wiping patches. Simply place them anywhere on the skin and they'll be absorbed into your system in only an hour; everything we've talked about will be erased. You'll forget about me, about the 'other world' and even Sherlock. One patch covers three hours and I'm leaving you with eight; that gives you 24 hours to decide."

"But…" John hesitated, "what if I decide to go to the other world?"

"Well," Mycroft breathed, "that's a little more complicated. There is a watch; a pocket watch. This watch contains suppressed memories. Find it. Once you've found the watch and opened it you'll get all the other memories returned to you and re-enter the other world." Mycroft leaned close the Dr. Watson, "Just remember, John, either way you choose there is no going back. So decide wisely."

John stood there watching as Mr. Holmes picked up his umbrella and headed to the door. Suddenly the older man paused.

"Any questions?" He asked. John glanced at the waiting man,

"Yeah, um," John said, "Just-just one." Mycroft raised his eyebrows as indication for him to continue, "If," John began carefully, "If, like you say, I am 'in charge' of everything-even time-then…how are you not in my time? I mean…why are you so…free?"

Mycroft grimaced a warm grimace, "I suppose you could say that I sort of stepped through the wall diving the worlds just for a quick visit." The man turned and opened the door and began walking down the stairs. When Mycroft was about half-way down John heard him call back up to him, "Time to choose a side, Dr. Watson." Then the front door closed with a loud 'click'.

"Wait!" John shouted as he dashed down the stairs; he flung open the door only to find himself staring at an all-to-empty Baker Street. Mycroft Holmes was gone as if he was never there but the container of memory-patches was still sitting on the mantel upstairs.

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 **I hope that this clears some stuff up without making the whole story obvious but if you have any questions (that don't contain spoilers) I'll do my best to answer them in the next chapter that I post. :)**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	6. Chapter 4: Don't Be Dead

**Okay, so now we're going to take a break from John and move into some (hopefully) less confusing stuff...**

 **Jesuslovesmaria: I think I understand what you're asking so let me try and give you an answer. Each memory patch erases only 3 hours of memory. Mycroft left John 8 patches each able to erase 3 hours of memory; this equals a total amount of 24 hours that can be forgotten. If John went over the limit, he would still remember some of the conversation he had with Mycroft. (I know that I mentioned Sherlock in the list of things that John would forget and to understand that you just have to remember that John's version of time is very different from Mycroft's.)**

 **I hope that helps! ;)**

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 **Disclaimer: Guess who _still_ doesn't own BBC Sherlock? (Just in case you couldn't guess; the answer is me.)**

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Sherlock stood at the window staring into the street. The thin man fingered his phone and tucked it into his pocket. He was thinking.

 _The cell phone vibrated and Sherlock snatched it up, hoping for some sort of case. The number that came up was John's. With a grin, Sherlock answered the cellular device,_

" _Hello? This is Sherlock." He said,_

" _Hello?" A woman's voice sounded on the other side, "Hello? Is someone there?" Sherlock's smile faded,_

" _Hello? Who is this?"_

" _My name's Lexy. I-I didn't know what to do…your name was the first one on the contact list." Sherlock began to feel uneasy,_

" _How did you get this phone?" He demanded,_

" _It was just lying next to him…oh, gosh; I hope he's not dead." Sherlock stood up in alarm,_

" _Lexy? Where are you?! What's happened to John?!" The woman on the other end hesitated,_

" _No, wait, he's breathing. He's alive." She sounded relieved, "I actually work with John sometimes, we're still here at the hospital…they were running low on doctors." Sherlock didn't hang up as he got on his coat and scarf,_

" _Lexy, get help. Make sure that John's alright. I'm going to hang up now but I'll be there as soon as I can." Sherlock hung up the phone and charged down the stairs. He hailed a cab and gave the driver the Watson's address. As they drove Sherlock called Mary and filled her in. Mary was ready to go as soon as the cab pulled up. They headed to the hospital._

A knock on the flat door startled the consulting detective out of his thoughts,

"Come in." He said. Mary opened the door. She was in her coat and boots; her eyes were slightly swollen and red but her overall appearance was neat.

"You ready?" She asked taking in his trench coat and gloves, "The cab's waiting outside." Sherlock nodded and followed Mrs. Watson out of the room. It seemed like shorter than six weeks since the Watsons had returned from their honeymoon and John had begun work again. You couldn't even see that Mary was pregnant yet.

The ride to the hospital was silent; they always were. The cab seemed to take forever to get to the building. Sherlock wondered why he still wasn't used to it. The ride was familiar now, he could tell you what was around the next turn, the next tree they would pass, how many traffic lights there were and much, much more.

Mary was quiet, her eyes trained straight ahead. She was doing her best not to think. Not to count down the minutes and seconds that still lay between her and her husband. When the cab did pull up in front of that oh-so recognizable building she scrambled out and hurried inside. Sherlock paid the driver and headed after her. He stopped, though, and looked at the building. This could be it; John could have died during the night. Sherlock turned his coat collar down and stepped inside.

Mary was already heading into the hall with the nurse and Sherlock lagged behind them; he always did. The nurse followed Mary to the door and opened it for her. The two stepped inside and Sherlock tucked his hands inside his pockets and leaned against the wall. This wasn't something he was going to barge into. This wasn't his business; if Mary wanted him she would say so. The door opened and the nurse walked out. She glanced at Sherlock as she passed and then back at the door. Sherlock took the cue and walked in.

The man on the bed look so unlike John with all the machines hooked up to him. Mary was standing at the foot of his bed just looking. Sherlock joined her,

"Any news?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"No." Mary's voice was hollow. Sherlock smiled and wrapped one arm around the woman's shoulder,

"Good." He breathed. Mary turned on him with a shocked expression on her face. Sherlock looked at her, "That means he's not any worse." He assured her.

Mary looked at her friend. Sherlock had been so helpful; he had stepped out of his comfort zone again and again just to make sure she was doing alright. He was doing it now. Here he was, probably making deductions on anything the doctors and nurses might be hiding but he was being optimistic for her sake. Mrs. Watson wondered what she would have done without Holmes. She sighed.

" _Where is he?!" Mary screamed as the two of them plunged into the hospital. Nurses looked up sharply as Mary slammed her hands down on the front desk. "Where is John!? Where is my husband?!" She sobbed uncontrollably. Sherlock stepped forward he placed his hands onto Mary's shoulders and looked at the nurse. A frantic light was in his eyes but he forced himself to speak as calmly as he could._

" _I received a phone call concerning John Watson." He said in a shaky voice. Realization broke over the face of the woman behind the desk. She stood up hurriedly,_

" _This way, please."_

Mary shook her head. "Don't think about that." She muttered. He looked the same, though, they had added the feeding machine later but he was still in the same room and the same bed. He had been like this for four and one-third weeks. Mary had tried so hard but she couldn't stop keeping count of the days that dragged by. The determined woman wasn't about to give up hope in her soldier though. "Oh, John," she whispered, "If you die, I swear, I will kill you."

Sherlock either didn't hear what she had said or he just thought it unnecessary to reply to her. He had his phone out, scanning through some article. As he was reading his ringtone sounded. Mary turned towards John, hoping that the noise would somehow wake him up. Nothing happened and Sherlock picked up the phone.

"Sherlock Homes," he said and stepped out of the room. Mary leaned close to the door, listening. "No," Sherlock was saying in an annoyed voice, "I've told you again and again that I'm not interested in any case that you might possibly have to offer… _Really_? A man who can't die? Wow. Where did _you_ get that idea?  Anderson could come up with a better theory than _that_. Good-bye, Lestrade." Sherlock hung up and stood in the hallway for a moment. Everything was so still, so quiet…it was dreadful. The man turned and re-entered the room of the sleeping medical man. "Mary," he said quietly, "you should try and eat something."

"What? Like you do?" She asked sarcastically as she took in her friend's sunken cheeks and hollow appearance. Sherlock smirked,

"I've trained myself to be able to go without food for a long time." Mary snorted. "Also," Sherlock continued, "I'm not a pregnant woman who would be endangering not only her life but the life of another human by not giving it the proper nutrition." Mary just looked at him,

"Well…" she muttered.

"Shall I go get you something, Mother Watson?" Holmes questioned. Mary gave in,

"Alright, but I'm not making any promises that I'm going to eat a lot."

"No," Sherlock breathed, "we don't want you to go into stress eating, do we?" Mary lifted her purse threateningly and Sherlock smiled while he hurriedly ducked out of the room.

The black-haired male paced down the hall and tapped down the stairs, whistling snatches of a song that he had recently started to compose. As he walked out of the hospital his keen eyes noticed a very familiar man. Sherlock groaned mentally and hoped that Mycroft hadn't seen him but it was only moments before Sherlock found his older brother walking next to him. Sherlock had to quicken his pace to keep up with the older man.

"Hello, brother mine." Mycroft began. Sherlock glanced at him,

"How's the diet?" He asked turning his eyes back to the sidewalk before him.

"I might ask the same of you. You've lost at least four pounds. Have you eaten at all since John was found?" Sherlock muttered something inaudible.

It was true though, he had hardly eaten at all since Watson had ended up in the hospital. Sure he had a biscuit every now and again and he would partially eat a meal when Mrs. Hudson asked it of him but, to be honest, he had forgotten about eating. No one seemed to get that bit. When Sherlock was focused on something- really focused- he pushed everything aside and, very often, that caused him to forget certain things.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Was the reply that Mycroft received,

"Barely," Mycroft confirmed him, "you're even having trouble keeping up with me and this is my slower pace." Sherlock stopped abruptly,

"What is it to you?" He demanded. Mycroft turned and looked, not at Sherlock, but at his little brother. "It never mattered to you before! Why do you care now?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft sighed,

"Little brother, you have hardly eaten anything for almost five weeks and you want to know why I'm concerned. I'm _always_ concerned." Mycroft inspected the tip of his umbrella, "I do really think that you're putting yourself in danger." Sherlock shook his head but that only made him dizzy. He had been feeling the consequences of his actions more and more lately. Mycroft shook his head, "It will never do if both you and John are in the hospital. Come on." He said as a black car pulled up. Sherlock looked at it in a sort of desperate way; he hated to admit that Mycroft was right but he also knew that he was in no state to fight against his brother's will.

"Mary…" he muttered dumbly. Mycroft smiled,

"She will be taken food, don't worry. Just get in the car, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke in his soft, gentle way that was both threatening and soothing. Sherlock hesitated a moment longer before complying. The British Government climbed into the car after his little brother and the car disappeared down the road.

"What is it really?" Sherlock asked as car moved along. Mycroft looked at him before handing him a bag,

"Eat while I talk." He ordered. Sherlock obediently began to consume the food that Mycroft had, doubtlessly, brought from home. "Now listen, brother dear," Mycroft began, "I know you're not taking cases but-" Sherlock looked up sharply,

"But?" He asked.

"But," Mycroft repeated, "You might want to take this one up. It has to do with John's current state. It may not be as 'faultless' as you are inclined to believe."

Sherlock froze.

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 **Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp, so much for less confusing...**

 **;)**


	7. Chapter 5: The Case of the Silver Watch

**I haven't updated in ages! I'm such a bad author. More Sherlock this time round, sorry again about the lat update!**

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 **I have a dream that I hope will come true! That I'll some day own BBC Sherlock and maybe Doctor Who! But until that time, I'm running out of rhymes, I'll disclaim the two! Yes, I have to disclaim the two (of them)!**

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Mycroft looked at Sherlock's paled face with some alarm,

"Oh goodness, Sherlock, don't pass out!" He leaned over and grabbed Sherlock's wrist his long fingers feeling the pulse. "Your heart beat has accelerated, brother dear. Try to stay calm." Mycroft switched to his gentle voice, "Breath Sherlock, in and out, stop hyperventilating or you'll pass out and then you won't be able to help John at all."

John.

Sherlock blinked and tried to focus. He needed to concentrate on breathing and getting his heart rate down; a quick trip to the mind palace should do the trick.

Molly looked at him; his mind palace was a mess. Blaring sounds and flashing white lights told him that his body was on the verge of passing out,

"Focus." Molly said determinedly; calling his attention to herself, "Sherlock, you need to focus. Get you breathing slowed down: in…and out…in…and out. Copy Mycroft's breathing." Sherlock opened his ears and let Mycroft in. The man stood in front of him and said something. Sherlock couldn't make it out, everything was turning black. Mycroft began to breath slowly. Sherlock watched mind palace Mycroft for a second or two before beginning to imitate and synchronize with him. In and out, that's it, slowly…in…and out…in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Sherlock opened his eyes. He was still copying Mycroft's breathing and he felt his heart rate begin to decrease. Mycroft looked sternly at his brother,

"Breath." He ordered. Sherlock let out another breath and Mycroft reached over grabbing his wrist. Sherlock felt his brother's fingers squeeze gently as they retook his pulse. Mycroft leaned back and looked at Sherlock, "You are definitely unwell. I know someone who can fix that."

"Who?" Sherlock asked in a shaky voice, glancing out the window. He forgot about breathing for a moment as he saw that he was unable to see through the windows.

"Sherlock," Mycroft called sternly, "breath." He instructed and watched his little brother let out a held breath. "Me." He said in answer to Sherlock question. Sherlock looked sharply at him,

"You?" he asked, "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I'm giving you a case, aren't I? Is anything else required?" The question sounded reasonable enough.

"Yes." Sherlock answered, looking at his older brother, "John. For a case I need John."

"Oh, believe me." Mycroft assured him, "This case is just crawling with John Watson-ness."

The car halted and Mycroft opened the door and got out; Sherlock climbed out his own side and glanced around,

"Where are we?" He asked,

"As if I'd tell you!" Mycroft answered, "You know practically every location in London I'll hold onto the precious few that you don't, if you don't mind."

"I do mind." Sherlock stated. Mycroft grimaced,

"Too bad for you then." He swung his umbrella and headed inside a building. Sherlock turned up his coat collar and followed him. Inside there was a table, full laid with a prepared meal for two, and complete with a waiter. Mycroft seated himself and directed Sherlock to the other side of the table,

"You know I don't eat while I'm working." Sherlock said as he sat down.

"You're not working yet, William."

"And you're not talking yet, Mike." Mycroft raised an eyebrow. He supposed he had asked for that one and Sherlock looked pleased at his statement as the waiter served the food for them. The waiter took Mycroft's umbrella and put it at a stand that was set up (probably for that purpose exactly). When the man tried to take Sherlock's coat and scarf, though, he received such a strong death-glare that he stepped back hurriedly. Mycroft made a clicking noise with his tongue,

"Remember your manners, Sherlock and be nice to the poor man with amnesia." Sherlock cast one last glance at the waiter before glancing at his plate,

"You're not going to give up, are you?" He asked. Mycroft had already begun eating; Sherlock picked up his glass of water and took a few sips. He had to break back in slowly, his stomach flipped and felt queasy at the thought of eating anything at the moment. He'd just have to go slow. Mycroft wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it aside,

"John H. Watson is in a coma in the hospital at the moment and no one knows why." He began. "There was nothing mentally wrong with him and, overlooking the shoulder, nothing physical. He was found in the room, alone and unconscious. Now the big questions are 'How?' and 'Why?' and that's where you come in." Sherlock was eating now, slowly, letting his system know what was happening. He nodded at Mycroft to let him know that he was listening, "John was in the room shortly after he ate lunch. Why he was in the room in the first place is unknown seeing as he was due to turn up on the floor below to meet with a patient. There was only one thing that was out of place in the room when my people got there, this watch." Mycroft took it out of his pocket and leaned across the table. Sherlock took the small object in his fingers. "Have you seen it before?"

"No." Sherlock answered.

"It's a fob watch," Mycroft explained, "Seems the owner was rather careless and let the chain vanish or break."

"Or the owner found it annoying and took it off." Sherlock supplied. He turned the watch over in his hands, trying to find out its secrets. Mycroft was looking at him. "Fingerprints?" Sherlock asked,

"Yes, plenty," Mycroft said, "Some were John's, two other were unidentifiable and then there were yours."

Sherlock stared at Mycroft, "What? What are you saying?" He demanded.

"I'm saying that at some point (probably rather recently) you've handled this watch." Sherlock shook his head,

"If I ever saw this I deleted it." He said quietly; Mycroft looked directly into Sherlock's eyes and the younger shifted his gaze.

"Even deleted things can be renewed, little brother." He said, "Do you need me to walk you through it?"

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. Mycroft wasn't asking, he was telling. The older Holmes leaned back in his chair,

"Enter into the heart of your mind." He began, "Find the door; found it yet? Good." He breathed as Sherlock nodded, "Go through the door and outside. Look around you and locate a large bin: this is the container for all your deleted memories. Remember when I taught you how to delete things I had you put them in a bin? There's the bin. Go to it and open it up; look inside, the watch had to be held recently so the memory should be somewhere near the top. Do you see it?"

"No, it's not here." Sherlock said simply. His eyes closed tighter as he tried to find what he was looking for. "There's no watch here, Mycroft…" the consulting detective trailed off. Mycroft leaned a little closer,

"What?" he asked. Sherlock opened his eyes,

"Nothing." He said, "No watch, no fingerprints, nothing."

"Then how did your fingerprints turn up on the watch?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock glanced at his brother,

"I don't know and I don't like it. But I will take up the case." Sherlock stood up, "Anything else?" he asked.

"No." Mycroft supplied the answer. Sherlock raised his eyebrows,

"A case where someone manages to put someone else into a coma and then manages to escape before the security cameras or anyone else can see them and you expect me to solve it with a watch?" Mycroft smiled,

"Of course, it's to save John Watson, Sherlock. You care about John Watson so you'll make it happen eventually."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and got back into the car, "Take me to Baker Street," he instructed the driver, "I've got a lot to do." The car pulled out and Mycroft took up his umbrella once more.

He sighed; Sherlock was right about the amount of work. It was incredibly ridiculous, how could Sherlock's fingerprints end up on that watch if he had never seen it before. His little brother had been honest at least; in the case of Dr. Watson being in danger Sherlock wouldn't have withheld any information that he knew that his older brother would deem necessary. With a shake of his head, the British Government turned and walked into the darkness of the building leaving the waiter to clear away the table and everything on it.

Sherlock stepped into his home on Baker Street and was immediately alerted that he had a text from Mary:

Hey where R U? Some man brought me food and said that you sent it along

Sherlock wasted no time in replying:

Baker Street. Mycroft found a case that I need to help him with

Sherlock pressed send before turning the phone off and setting it on the dining room table.

"Now," His mind Anderson said, "to work: the watch was hardly used but it definitely wasn't new. Whoever had lost it had most likely received it as a gift." Sherlock grabbed his laptop and typed a few words into the search bar.

 _3 hours later_

That's it. Sherlock slammed the computer closed. The watch had to be custom made, there were none like it. Even the basic style was untraceable. This was going to be hard, very hard. He'd better let Mycroft know of his lack of developments.

Sherlock stood up and straightened his shirt. He looked around before he snatched up his phone and texted Mycroft. After that Sherlock ran his hands over his tired face. He picked up the watch and a fire pain shot into his arm.

' _Detective…'_ Sherlock dropped the watch and took at step backward. His eyes were wide as he inspected the object. Did the watch just speak to him?! It just burned him; but the watch had been on the window sill…the sun? No, the windows were closed. Sherlock bent over the watch, inspecting it,

"What are you?" He asked, "Where did you come from?"

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 **I'd love to hear people's thoughts on this!**

 **Also, please wake up. You've been in a coma for over 2 months and we've been trying our best to pull you out of it. This is a new method we're trying out and we don't know how soon it will get to you but, please, wake up.**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	8. Chapter 6: Donna Dream-Lord

**Ooooooookay! Now to the past with the Doctor and his lovely companion: the one and only Donna Noble! I know, just as you were thinking: "Could this story get any more confusing?" I went ahead and added the Doctor (It _is_ a WhoLock after all)! And everyone knows, there is nothing more confusing than the Doctor! ...We-e-ll, except maybe all the people who don't like Doctor Who or Sherlock...those people are really confusing.**

 **Anywho, enjoy!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Sherlock, nor am I responsible for the people who miss out on everything because they don't appreciate BBC's creations.**

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 _A few weeks earlier…_

"Donna! Grab the yellow rope! Grab the YELLOW rope! PULL DONNA! PULL!"

The Doctor and Donna were (yet again) in danger of losing their lives. Apparently, on this planet of whatever-it-was-called wearing tight-fitting suites was considered extremely scandalous and scandal was punishable by three months in prison. The Doctor of course had decided that prison sounded like a rubbish place to go so he had become a fugitive on the run. Now everything circled around Donna pulling the yellow rope without moving the red one next to it but if anyone could do that, it was Donna. She grunted and jumped up, wrapping her legs around the rope and putting her full weight on it. The rope began to descend. With a thud she hit the ground,

"Is that all, Space-man?" she demanded in a rough voice. The Doctor shoved the doors of the TARDIS open and dragged the willing red-head in after him,

"Hold on to something!" The Doctor screeched. Donna gripped onto the railing as she heard the sound of the angry but modest aliens approaching the room they had locked themselves into. The TARDIS jerked suddenly and the Doctor was flung to the side. In a flash, he had returned to the consul and brought down his mallet with a hard whack; the machine shuddered and lurched again. Then it suddenly froze. The Doctor collapsed into the cushioned couch, "Well," he coughed, "that was…interesting."

Donna swayed slightly as she let go of the bar; she kicked off her high heels without bothering to see where they landed. She flopped down next to her skinny friend,

"Can we not do that again?" She asked in a quiet voice. The Doctor made eye contact with her,

"Donna?" he said as his eyes widened and his face took on his 'everything's gonna be fine- well, not really but we can pretend' look, "are you feeling okay?" Before Donna could answer she felt an unreasonable wave of exhaustion crash over her,

"I'm…mmm…I'm feeling sleepy all of a sudden…" She struggled to keep her eyes open as the Doctor pulled out his sonic. He scanned her several times before putting it away.

"You're fine. It's just a sleeping dose they must have given you. Best just to sleep it off." Donna would have made some sort of witty comment to this but she was just too tired at the moment. She let her eyes fall shut and the sound of the TARDIS lulled her off to dream land.

 _Donna began to dream that she was in a very big building. She was standing with the door just behind her; there was a long hallway before here with doors and doors and doors branching off, at the end of the hallway stood two men, back to back. One was tall with a look of authority, his black curls shifted as he looked towards Donna. The other man was short with an attitude that was very different; he stood with his shoulders slouched and stared off into the darkness. He moved only when the other man did, like a shadow. The tall man turned and stood facing Donna. The red-head took a cautious step forward._

" _Who are you?" She asked the man._

" ' _Help me.' " Both men spoke at the same moment, " 'The watch must be given to the Detective. Give it to him, Donna.' " Donna's eyes widened,_

" _How do you know my name?" She demanded. Gold light filled the air around the man._

" ' _Oh, Donna.' " The shorter man stepped out so that he was standing next to other man. The light was emitting from him. His eyes glowed, 'Don't you see?' he asked, 'How_ _ **obvious**_ _you are?' He took a step towards here. The taller man stood as if in a trance, unmoving,_

" _All right, you," Donna snapped, "Stop it, now!"_

" _Help me." The plea came weak and quiet. It was the taller man. "Please, help me." He begged. Donna watched with a terrible feeling in her gut. What was she suppose to do?_

 _The shorter man laughed and sneered. Then, all at once, he became serious. He stood directly in front of Donna; the light coming from him nearly blinded her. 'Wake up.' He breathed._

Donna sat bolt upright. She was alone in the consul room. The woman stood up and put her hand to her head; how long were these dreams going to last? She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small round object. It had be a gift from the locals on a planet called Memoritan. According to the Doctor, they went through time and space collecting things to add to their collection of memories. She had found the watch outside a gift shop and in the end, they had just given it to her. She had been glad to have some sort of alien souvenir and had thought of giving it to her grandfather, but with all the dreams that came with it she wasn't so sure anymore. As she held the watch she felt it's now familiar warmth; a pulse emitted from it causing Donna to drop it. That was new. The sound of whistling caught her attention; she scooped up the watch and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Time to talk to the Doctor." She muttered as the man walked in.

"Hello, Donna," the alien greeted her, "How'd ya sleep?" Donna informed her friend that she had slept very well.

"Doctor," she began, "You remember that planet we went to with all those memories?" The Doctor nodded.

"Memoritan? Yes, I remember that. That was fun; we almost got our minds wiped." He grinned like a school boy on a Saturday. Donna rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, I'm trying to be serious." The Doctor glanced at her and then put down the wires he had been holding. He walked over and sat down next to his companion.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Donna pulled out the watch.

"This," she began, "I found it on that planet. They gave it to me as a gift, probably because they wanted to make up for trying to wipe my memory. I've had it ever since then but it's warm and it keeps giving me these weird dreams…Doctor?" The Doctor was staring at the watch; his expression completely changed. His hand shook as he reached for the small device. Donna let him take it although she found it slightly difficult to do so. The Doctor turned the watch over in his hands,

"It's definitely warm…" he attempted but then fell back into silence.

"Doctor?" Donna asked with some concern, "Doctor, are you alright?" The alien cleared his throat.

"Yeah…it's a…memory container. Nothing important."

"Oh." Donna said, "Are you sure? I thought that you said you could feel anything from memories..." The Doctor gave her a solid, no argument face.

"I'm positive."

Anything that either Donna or the Doctor had to say was instantly forgotten as the TARDIS took matters into her own hands. The ship flung itself to one side; Donna grabbed the seat just in time but the Doctor was thrown at the railing. Donna heard his head make contact with the metal and she saw the Doctor go limp.

"Doctor!" she screamed as the time machine shook again. This time she was sent onto her hands and knees; the doors of the TARDIS banged open and the watch went sailing out. The lights went out as the ship began a rapid descent. Where ever they were going, the TARDIS felt like making a dramatic crash entrance.

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 ***whispers* what will happen next?**


	9. Chapter 7: It's Alien! Alien-Alien!

**So here's the next chapter for you guys. Thanks for being so patient! :)**

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 **Disclaimer: BBC Sherlock and Doctor Who aren't owned by me or anyone that I know on a personal level. :(**

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When the TARDIS did finally slow down and/or land the first thing Donna did was rush over to her best friend. His breathing was heavy but regular, his hearts were both beating, and, overall, he actually looked quite peaceful and happy. Donna stood up and looked quizzically at the Time Lord; she couldn't just leave him lying on the floor…there could be a blood thirsty Pomeranian puppy out there for all she knew! The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that she was right: she had to get the Doctor somewhere safe! So, a few moments later, Donna was dragging the unconscious alien by his ankles through the hallways of the time machine; she traveled confidently without any idea of where she was actually going. The TARDIS would take care of that bit. She shoved open a door to see a very comfortable looking bedroom with the biggest bed that she had ever laid eyes on. For a moment, she was jealous of the Doctor's position as she loaded him onto the mattress and pulled the blueish-grey blanket over his slim figure. Now that she had secured the safety of the universe and everyone in it, she was going to find out exactly where they had descended.

With slow, quiet steps Donna approached the door to everything. She debated how to open it, there was the Doctor way and then there was the cautious, any-sane-person way. With a sudden burst of speed she hurried towards the doors and flung one open; a moment later though she gripped the side of the TARDIS. Below her was a long drop, a whole building to be exact. The TARDIS had positioned herself at the edge of a building; there was no way to get out and nothing (except maybe a few spiders, birds, and climbing/flying aliens) could get in. The red-head retreated back into the interior of the TARDIS, slamming the door closed. She stood there, looking at it and thinking about how she almost fell to her death. With the more cautious approach this time, Donna peered outside. People tramped the sidewalk below and an endless stream of cars was making their way on a narrow road. Donna smirked slightly; this looked like London! She glanced around herself more carefully…it _was_ London!

For some reason, the TARDIS had decided to crash-land smack dab in the middle of London! Now, the question was, why had the TARDIS landed there? What was so important about London in this time era? When were they anyway? Donna slid back inside and closed the blue door. With countless questions banging around in her head she sat down on the couch to think. Her fingers slipped into her pocket to pull out the watch but they met nothing. Donna's eyebrows furrowed as she searched her other pockets, where was it? Oh, she remembered now! The Doctor had taken it and then the ship had gone whacko; it must be on the floor somewhere. Donna walked around the room, staring at the floor. No it wasn't here…but if not here then where? There was a noise as the Doctor fell out the bed with a crash.

"Donna?" He called as he ran out, "I think the TARDIS threw me into the back room over there."

"No kidding." Donna muttered. Louder, she addressed the alien, "Do you still have the watch on you?" The Doctor looked alarmed,

"I assumed that you had it." He looked seriously panic stricken.

Donna shook her head. The Doctor rushed towards the doors and flung one open. His reaction was basically the same as Donna's. With a squeal of surprise, he threw himself back into the ship and slammed the door. His eyes were so wide that Donna was afraid that they might fall out,

"We're on the edge of a roof!" Donna raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes,

"You don't say!" she drawled sarcastically. The Doctor looked slightly annoyed,

"You know, you are the worst companion at reactions. I usually either get a, 'No way, really?!' or a, 'I KNOW! Tell me how Doctor because I have no idea!' at that point I usually just make something up really clever sounding and get them to look impressed." He scratched the back of his head.

"We're in London." Donna stated. The Doctor looked at her.

"How long have I been out?!" he asked in a voice that was slightly higher than normal. Donna shrugged, "Oh, thanks." The Doctor said, "I'm so glad that my companion takes such drastic precautions with time on a time machine."

Donna gave him a look, "Well," she began, "I'm not the Time Lord who has a…what was it? Oh yes! An **impeccable** sense of time." The Doctor opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. Donna smirked; she'd won again.

"The watch must've fallen out…" The Doctor reopened the doors. With one hand gripping the frame, he leaned himself out with a quizzical expression on his face. "We've got to find it!" He closed the doors again and ran over to the TARDIS console; he began to press buttons while looking at the screen. Donna blinked,

"Why?"

"Sorry?" the Doctor glanced at the red-head.

"Why do we need to find the watch? You said it wasn't important."

"It's not." The Doctor assured her.

"Then why are we looking for it?" Donna was understandably confused.

"Well, it's alien…and…extraterrestrial." The Time Lord muttered.

"Did you just say that we're going to find the 'not dangerous' watch because it's alien and because it's alien?" Donna drawled, almost as unimpressed as she was confused, "That watch _is_ special, isn't it? You just don't want to tell me because there's something about it that you don't like."

The Doctor didn't answer, he jerked a lever down and the screen changed color. He focused his attention on their flight path.

"The watch is at least in a 200 mile radius…" He muttered out loud as he wrote something quickly on a piece of paper. Then he bounded across the room and jumped over the stairs (who uses stairs anyways?) and disappeared beneath the upper deck. A moment later he came back up holding his timey-wimey detector. Donna raised an eyebrow,

" _What_ is _that_?" she asked.

"This? It's my Timey-Wimey Detector: it goes 'ding' when there's stuff."

"Thanks, that cleared up a lot." Donna informed him.

"Great! Shall we go explore London, then?" The Doctor questioned the red-head.

"Oh," said Donna, "but I was having _so_ much fun sittin' here doing nothing!" The Doctor looked confused and slightly put down,

"Oh, okay…well…" He began. Now it was Donna's turn to look annoyed,

"We've got to work on your sarcasm detection skills." She groaned, "Yes, I want to go explore London. Let's go."

"Okay! Allons-y!" The Doctor cried as he opened the doors and came to a standstill. He turned to face Donna's 'I can't believe you just did that' face. "I'll get us down first…"

Donna nodded, "That'd probably be a good idea."

People below didn't even notice the blue police box that appeared out of nowhere. It was amazing how many people didn't bother to look up. Among them was a man. He paced quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself. His coat was pulled tightly around himself even though it was rather warm out; he looked around before walking into a thrift store. Inside he tried to go as quickly as possible. He pulled a white shirt off of the rack and stepped into the changing room; pulling off his coat he looked at his blood stained shirt that was full of holes. Silently, he picked out several bullets from his torn skin. Captain Jack sighed, so much for not getting involved with the news.

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 **Yeah...the last sentence is rather grusome but that's probably going to be the most blood/physical wounds that anybody in this story is going to receive.**

 **~SimmonsButterlfys**


	10. Chapter 8: Companions of Old(ish)

**Greetings again! Sorry for the late update but my life has been life-y. So yeah...there you go.**

 **I thought I'd better clear something up for yall and that's that this story (for Capt. Jack) is taking place sometime after Martha but before he officially meets Donna in the TV show. (I realize that this sounds really confusing so it's probably helping no one out there but I just thought it might be important and I can't think of any other way to say it.)**

 **Anywho, enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or BBC Doctor Who**

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Capt. Jack Harkness honestly hadn't meant to go on a date with a woman who was only interested in his money and he hadn't meant to get murdered. He really hadn't. He also hadn't meant to meet up with her several times after their first "date". This all boiled down to his getting shot again…and again, and again, and again to be completely unintentional. So when he saw the story on the front page of every single newspaper in London he tried to lay low. He really did! Well, I saw really but I mean for the most part…well, he was definitely cautious…well, most of the time…well, I say most…well, actually he was rather enjoying the whole adventure. So now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk without a care in the world. He nodded his head at a group of young teens (whether the nod was to a boy or a girl I haven't the faintest idea). As he strolled he saw a black car pull up and stop just a few yards from where he was standing. Out of the said car came a very tall, pale man who looked like he was on the verge of being sick.

The man leaned against the car and said something to someone inside. Jack leaned closer in order to hear what was being said,

"Yes, I'll call you with any developments." The man outside the car said. Whoever was inside was too quiet to be heard. The tall man continued, "Good-bye, brother mine, I'll see you around I guess." With that the tall man slammed the car door closed before turning down the street and walking briskly away. Capt. Harkness decided to trail him; he had a feeling that something here was out of place, or worse, out of time. The tall man's black curls bounced with his every step and he hands were burrowed deep into his trench coat pockets; he walked without seeming to know where he was going, people sidestepped him in an attitude that showed they were fairly familiar with this man's unusual habits. Even Jack swore to himself that he had seen this man somewhere before. Suddenly, a woman came dashing across the street. A car blared its horn, but she took no notice. She made a bee-line to the man in the trench coat.

"Mr. Holmes?" She gasped out of breath. Her breath created a cloud of steam in the fall air. The man made no acknowledgement that the woman next to him even existed. She tried again, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes? I'm writing a story on the multiple homicides concerning the same blood at all the crime scenes; could you give me some information on it? I heard you were working the case, is that true?"

The man stopped and looked at the woman, his eyes sweeping over her. He was reading her like a book. The woman shifted uncomfortably under that steel gaze. Sherlock returned his gaze to her eyes,

"No questions, please. I'm not allowed to disclose information without the permission of Scotland Yard." He then turned and paced away, leaving the woman staring after him.

So, Jack was tailing the famous Sherlock Holmes? He had seen the guy in pictures on the newspaper, but he thought that the man had only been called Sherlock Holmes because of his detective skills. After all, Sherlock Holmes was one of the best known characters in all of history, but he was fictional. The great works by Sir Arthur Doyle were famous throughout all of space…or they would be…in the future. But then who was this man?

Jack would've gladly found out if he hadn't seen a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye. If he hadn't heard the frantic, "Excuse me, pardon, coming through!" followed by the pound of feet. Yes, if Jack hadn't noticed the converse slapping against the pavement or felt the wind as an extremely skinny man dashed by him, Jack would've found out everything about Sherlock Holmes; but, for now, he had a Time Lord to catch.

With a jerk, the captain had switched his direction and began to dash past people and signs, cars and bikes, houses and shops. Always keeping the Doctor in sight he plunged successfully around people texting. "Doctor!" He hollered above the din of the bustling street, "Doctor!"

The man stopped and turned around his brown eyes bulging as he peered through the crowd. His brainy glasses perched on the end of his nose and he pulled one eyebrow down; his mouth hung slightly open as he spun around several times. Donna pulled up next to him,

"What are we waiting for?" She panted. The Doctor stood on his toes and arched his neck,

"I thought I heard someone calling me." He breathed as he attempted to be taller than the crowd again. Donna pointed,

"There's a man running towards us." She said. The Doctor followed her finger,

"Oh, no." He breathed as the man, who seemed unable to stop in time, crashed headlong into the time-traveler. Donna's eyes widened as she looked, speechless and unmoving at the two men on the ground.

The Doctor groaned, "Get off! Oh, goodness! Have you been putting on weight lately?!"

"It's nice to see you too." The other man smiled as he climbed to his feet and helped the Doctor to regain his footing. Donna blinked,

"What." She said as she looked from one to the other. The Doctor looked at her and realization suddenly hit his face,

"Oh! Donna, this is Jack. Jack this is Donna. Don't touch her or talk to her." The Doctor looked pointedly at Harkness. Donna and Jack exchanged glances. Then the American turned to the Gallifreyan,

"I'm not allowed to talk to people now?" He asked with a cheeky grin. The Doctor ignored his only male companion at the point and began to mess with the device in his hands.

"Now, I can set it to ignore Jack's existence. I was wondering what was interfering with it…" The Doctor faded into silence as began to slowly turn in a circle, the Timey-Wimey detector pointed outward. Then the alien frowned and shook the hodgepodge of parts before bringing it up to his ear. "It's picking up something…something small. No, wait, _two_ small somethings! And we all know what two small somethings mean."

"We do?" Donna asked, glancing at Jack. Jack smiled kindly,

"It means one big thing." He supplied.

"Exactly!" The Doctor said, "And Jack, I told you not to talk to Donna. Oh, oh hang on a minute!" He said as he switched a few objects and sonic the device. "One of the things is growing…slowly, but it's growing. Like it's learning, gaining power…"

"What are we gonna do about that?" Donna asked with some alarm in her voice. She was starting to get that feeling in her stomach: the feeling where you're all warm inside and can't wait to do whatever but at the same time you can feel that whatever's going to happen might not necessarily be a good thing. Jack straightened his trench coat and hat, preparing himself for whatever duty was required of him.

"We go and find it." The Doctor said in a soft voice, still staring at his detector as he began to weave his way through the crowd of people, letting the frequent "ding" be his guide.

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 **There will be more from John's pov really soon and then we find out about the thing and the other thing! :D**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	11. Chapter 9:The Domestic Approach

**Hello, again! Man, this story is loooooooong I realized. Anywho, now you lot are gonna be with Jack, Donna, and the Doctor before Donna decides to go and do a little investigating of her own!**

 **Oh, yeah, and Sherlock's in this one so hope you all enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer: I Don't own BBC! :(**

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The Doctor ran quickly through the streets of London, letting Jack take care of the 'excuse me' and 'pardon us' business. Donna continued to silently make commentary/yell at the Doctor in her head and Jack just wanted to find out what was going on.

"What are we doing, where are we going, and why?" He hollered at the running Time Lord.

"I'm hunting for alien technology, we're going this way, and because!" The Doctor yelled back. Suddenly the device in the Doctor's hands gave a shrill beeping noise before they became low and slow and eventually stopped all together. "No!" The alien growled, "No, no, no, no, no! What are you doing? Why are you doing that?! You're not supposed to do that!" The trio stopped at a fork in the road.

"Now what?" Donna asked as she gasped for breath. She glanced around the square.

"I'm gonna have to mess around with the Timey-Wimey detector for a bit and see if I can get it running again." The Doctor grumbled like a child.

"While you're doing that," Donna replied, "I'm gonna go get some water from over there." She pointed to a small store just a few yards away.

"Okay," the Doctor said in an absent sort of way, "Just don't get lost." He was already busy with his machine. Jack sat down on the pavement next to the Doctor.

"So," he began, "what's happening?" The Doctor glanced at Donna's back as she disappeared into the shop.

"Donna and I found a watch, a fob watch. A full one as a matter of fact, and now we're trying to find it…"

"Is it the Master again?" Jack asked in alarm,

"No," the Doctor assured him, "it's not the master but I don't know who it is. Donna found the watch and it started giving her weird dreams so she gave it to me."

"Does she know what it does?" Jack prompted,

"No…it probably wouldn't have led to anything anyway." The Doctor reconnected a few more wires and gave the Timey-Wimey detector a few hard shakes. "After all, I'm gonna find it and destroy it."

"What?" Jack gasped, "There could be another Time Lord and you're just going to destroy the one thing that could turn them back without even finding out who they are?!"

"Jack, if I do go out and find out _who_ they are I might do something stupid and give them the watch."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Remember how the Master turned out?" The Doctor asked with a look.

 _Inside the store…_

Donna placed the three bottles of cold water on the counter. She waited for the person in front of her to finish as she let her eyes wander. Her attention was caught by a newspaper lying neglected on a shelf. She picked it up to read the headline more clearly,

 **The Famous Sherlock Holmes Stumped?**

She turned to the page of the story and scanned through it; then she set the paper on the counter with the water. After she had purchased it all she turned and walked quickly out of the store. She reproached the Doctor and Jack and distributed the liquid.

"I think we're going to have to go back to the TARDIS so I can fix this properly the Doctor said and he heaved himself to his feet. Jack stood up as well,

"Okay, it's been a long time since I've seen the inside of the TARDIS." Donna hesitated,

"Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"Could I stay out and do some shopping?" Donna asked. The Doctor looked at her,

"Why?"

"Well," Donna paused again, "It's just, I don't really understand machinery all that well and I thought, since you'd be busy and me shopping wouldn't take up any of your time that it was the perfect opportunity. Plus, it's earth, so there's less of a chance that something bad will happen." The Doctor listened intently and thought a moment before consenting,

"Alright, but I don't know how long this is gonna take me so just give the TARDIS a call if you need anything and I'll call you when I'm through building." Donna smiled brightly,

"Brilliant! I'll see you later!" She watched the two men walk off before she pulled out her cell phone, "Siri," she asked, "Tell me directions to 221B Baker Street, London, England."

 _Later at 221B Baker Street_

Sherlock looked at the woman across from him. She was a temp with a difficult family situation and little respect for herself but none the less still demanded it.

"Miss Noble," He began, "You come to me because of a watch that you lost during your trip through London and you expect me to find it?"

"If you are as good as you say you are then, yes, that's exactly what I expect." Sherlock nodded slightly,

"I'll need a list of every road you traveled down…"

"Oh, we flew." Donna interrupted. Sherlock stared at her.

"You flew? How did you drop a watch out of an airplane?" He asked with a puzzled look. Donna rooted through her brain,

"We travel by helicopter."

"We?"

"Yes, a friend goes with me. He's a great traveling companion."

"You told me that you've traveled far and wide. Do you always go by helicopter?" Sherlock drilled the redhead,

"…Yes." Donna said at last and then again more firmly, "Always by helicopter."

"Ah." Sherlock rose and stepped to the door, "Good-bye, Donna." He said simply as he pulled the door open,

"What?" Donna asked in a shocked voice. Sherlock glared at her,

"'Always by helicopter'?" He demanded, "Where do you keep your clothes? How do you pack food? Shower? Bathroom? Beds? It's the worst lie I've ever heard. Get out, good-bye."

Donna realized the mistake in her story. She sat, in complete dumfounded silence before she rose and walked quickly out. As she descended the stairs she heard the flat door slam shut behind her.

Sherlock stood at the window and watched the woman disappear. He turned and removed the skull from the mantel. The watch flashed up at him with an innocent silence. He picked up the small device with care,

"What makes you so important? What are you?" he muttered as his fingers rested on the release mechanism.

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 **Aaaaaaand cliff hanger! Look how evil I am (aka notevilatall)! The next chapy will have John and Mary feels (I think...). I get all my chapters mixed up...we'll see what happens!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	12. Chapter 10: It's a Wonderful Life

**Hey! Look, I'm posting a new chapter before three weeks have gone by! (Everybody cheers) Yes, I can do this sort of thing!**

 **I like this chapter so much better than the last one! Okay, as promised, this is a John chapter so read carefully because there are tiny details that might be important. Things are gonna speed up a little so that there's actually gonna be some action going on.**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or Doctor Who. I do however, have access to a Netflix account which is almost the same thing but not quite.**

* * *

Mary placed her sewing down on the table,

"John, darling, you've been acting out of sorts lately…are you alright?" John turned and looked at his wife, with an effort, he mustered up a smile. He had just gotten back from another appointment with his therapist and was going back over their conversation in his mind,

" _You say that you_ _ **saw**_ _Sherlock Holmes?"_

" _That's right, he was right in front of me with a woman dressed in black. She saw him too, but they both seemed invisible to everyone else. Well, everyone except for me, that is." His therapist had smiled,_

" _John, your life is still in the process of changing back to normal. This 'Sherlock' that you've invented is just a way for you to cope with what's happening to you. He's someone who's suffered, much like yourself; he's someone whom you feel you can relate to. That's why he's in your mind. Listen to me, Dr. Watson; you've got to let him go. He's not real and he never has been." John straightened up,_

" _What about that Mycroft fellow? I've never told anyone aside from you and Mary about Sherlock so how did he know?"_

" _I don't know everything, John. All I know is that you need to move on. Your wife is going to have a baby soon, focus on that." She had reached out to touch his shoulder but had then backed off, "I'll let you go now, John. You need to get home to your wife and child. Good-bye."_

" _Good-bye, then."  
_

Now he faced Mary, ready to tell her everything but all that came out was a lie,

"I'm fine, it's work…there have been a few not-so-happy patients all of a sudden. That's all." Mary nodded with relief. John turned back to the window. How could he possible tell her what was really going on? The "signs" that Mycroft were talking about were beginning to show more and more. People would vanish as if they were being teleported away and other times everything would freeze in place. Sherlock made stronger visits where he was clearer and John could sometimes hear other noises too, but the visits were few and far between. Every now and again he noticed the same people on the streets as in his office. Sometimes they had slight changes such as a different hair color, different skin tone, a different outfit, or new facial features. Yes, the changes were suddenly obvious.

In a way though he'd always noticed the obvious things, he'd just never acknowledged that they were there or had never really thought about them. Now, here he was at 7:30 PM in an imaginary world, and somewhere in this imaginary world was a watch that could set him free. If he found this watch than he could go home, but what exactly "home" was he hadn't the faintest idea. There were fuzzy memories that came to him in dreams but were they an insight to the real word or just more imagination?

His eyes wandered from the window. Could he really give this all up? All that this world was made of was from his mind. His eyes rested on Mary as she sat reading. With a sudden feeling of cold dread he realized that he would have to give her up. The woman that he loved and that loved- he stopped and glanced at the round container of memory patches on the mantle as a new thought struck him. He reached for it and held it in his hands for a few moments,

"I don't want it." He muttered quietly.

"What?" Mary asked without looking up. John faced her,

"I don't want it." He repeated, louder this time. Mary's eyes locked onto him. "If this is a dream than I don't want it." John hissed. Mary looked at him like he'd just grown a third eye (but frankly at this point John wouldn't have been all too surprised if he had).

"I don't understand." Mary stuttered,

"Neither do I," John replied with a forced laugh before he became serious again, "But I can tell you right now that if this is a dream than I'm going kill it. I don't want it. If the people here are only happy, or hurting, or living, or dying because of what I want than I don't want to live here. If you only love me because I want you to love me than that's just as good as a machine programmed to love. I don't want that, Mary. I want you, and I want you to want me. So I'm going to find out what's really going on here and then I'm going to figure out what I can do about it." With that John turned and flung the patches into the fire. They caught immediately and went up in a flare of white smoke and steam. The army doctor turned and stormed out of the flat.

"Wait!" Mary screamed as he began to open the front door. He turned to see her rushing down the stairs, "Please, don't leave me." She begged with tears running down her cheeks. John stiffened, he had chosen a side and he was going to stick with it. He looked the blonde right in the eyes and there he saw, behind the tears, blankness. There was no love, no hurt, just a computer waiting for its next command.

"You are not Mary." John stated with a coldness that hurt him to his core, "And I could never love you as I could love my Mary Watson." The female's tears welled up more and she collapsed to the floor, pale as a sheet as John Watson turned and left her in the hallway of 221B.

He ran. Even though he had absolutely no idea where he was going, he ran. The dream, on default mode now, took him along his most used path. He soon noticed that it was his path to work. The streets were suddenly empty and it seemed that the sky couldn't decide between night and day. Everything was fuzzy. As he passed places the figures vanished and everything took on a gray hue.

"John!"

The man felt himself thrown to the ground. The name had hit him like a bullet and now he struggled to his feet once more. The world around him changed for a split second; the earth disappeared and he was standing in the middle of the sky. Stars twinkled around him and the sun burned furiously. Then everything went back to normal. He addressed the voice,

"Sherlock?" He called, "Sherlock, can you hear me? Please, you've got to get me out of here! I can't live like this! I can't live here!" John screamed at the empty road. Nobody came, nobody answered, and nobody cared. Watson was alone and he was the only one who knew that.

So he ran and ran and ran and ran. He ran like that would help him remember everything, help him wake up; help him escape this underworld he had built up around himself. He ran into the hospital, he ran down the hallways, he ran through the waiting room, he ran past his own examination room. Everything was empty, dim, and bare. Everything that he had placed there in his head to make it more real was slowly being stripped away. He ran towards the end of the hallway. He ran up to the door with his name. It was the only room that he'd been afraid of and what he wanted most now was a nightmare. After all, it's nightmares that wake you up. He slammed the door open and froze.

In the middle of the room were two chairs, facing each other. The chair turned in his direction was empty. The other chair had its back to him. It was from this chair that another figure stood up and turned to face him.

"Hello, John, do come in and take a seat," his therapist smiled a smile that dazzled with something other than joy, "are you ready for this? Good, then let's begin."

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 **Sooooooo, do you guys want another John chapter or a Sherlock chapter? Either would work right now but the Doctor and his companions I'm saving for a special part.**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	13. Chapter 11: Dying Men's Wish

**I post eleventh chapters now...eleventh chapters are cool! Not dead, big surprise, moving on.**

 **IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME! And for Christmas I'm giving you a chapter that stars two characters! Which is why it's so unbelievably long. Anyway, because this is two different people it might be a bit confusing so if you have any questions please don't be afraid to ask and I'll try and clear up anything that is misunderstood or left out on my part.**

 **Enjoy and Merry Christmas!**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or Doctor Who**

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John staggered backwards, "You?" He breathed, "What? What are you, then?"

The woman smiled venomously at him, "Well…I was the person that you came to in your time of need. I was the one to whom you whispered all your secrets, revealed all your weaknesses. I am the high command, and you showed me who I was." John found that this didn't help at all,

"…So who are you?"

"I am a virus. I am the one who put you into a perfect world of perfect happiness."

 _ **...**_

Sherlock attempted to forget about the watch again. He lounged in his chair with his chin resting on his folded hands. The wall had a new assortment of holes and his phone had gathered a collection of texts from Lestrade that he hadn't bothered to answer. The phone buzzed now and with long, white fingers Sherlock slowly picked it up. The newest text was from Mycroft:

Sherlock, you haven't moved for half an hour, are you alright? MH

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair and scanned the room before texting back:

Are you spying on me? I've got nothing better to do right now, I'm relaxing. SH

The phone buzzed again:

What about the case, have you found anything useful? MH

You're avoiding the first question, Brother Mine. I'm stepping back from the problem. It's very confusing and I'm not entirely sure where to begin. SH

What's confusing you, Little Brother? MH

I've never seen this watch and yet my fingerprints are all too obviously on its outer case; that's number one on the long list of confusing properties of this puzzle. SH

There was a pause of ten minutes before Mycroft replied:

Have you looked inside yet? You might find out who it belongs to if you look within the watch. MH

I haven't looked inside yet, but I will eventually. I'm going to eat something before you incarcerate me again. SH

Very well, Brother Mine, I'll talk to you later. MH

Sherlock didn't bother to reply; his brother would already be starting to think of his other 99 problems.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called from down stairs, "I'm going to the store, do you need anything?" Sherlock scanned his brain quickly, going through a mental list of all the groceries that he had in stock.

"Perhaps if you find a thermometer you could pick that up for me. My last one exploded about two weeks ago. That's all I can think of!" He called back. There was the sound of his landlady muttering something and then the door of 221B closing behind her. Neither knew it at the time but it was going to be a while before Sherlock spoke to Mrs. Hudson again.

Sherlock prepared himself a small meal, thereby following his brother's instructions and still avoiding following his brother's instructions at the same time. After this he worked for another hour on trying to trace the watch back to its origin and looking up information about a certain Donna Noble. He closed the laptop with a sigh, letting his eyes wander to the clock. Sherlock fingered the watch, "What are you?" he asked quietly. A feeling of dread filled him as he placed the tips of his fingers on the release button; with a final deep breath he pushed it open.

 _ **…**_

"You made me like this?!" John demanded, "Why? What could you possibly have to gain from all this? Who are you?"

"Me?" The woman asked gently as she paced towards him with her high-heels clicking loudly on the white floor, "I am a work of art." She hissed as she got a little too close to John for his comfort. He took a step back.

"What do you want me for? Why have you done this?"

The figure changed for a millisecond. The curves and long hair vanished and a shadowy form took their place. John caught a glimpse of a rumpled suite and a poster of power. Then it was gone and his "therapist" was practically nose to nose with him. The army doctor felt the wall against his back.

"I need to survive. You have given me life, John Watson. A patient for a doctor and I will be sure to recommend you to all my friends…if you live long enough for that sort of thing." She hissed with a shrug. John blinked,

"Are you living off of me?" He asked at last.

"No." The reply came quickly, "I'm taking over you. You and your pathetic mortal body are now in my possession and, with just a bit more patience on my part, I'll soon be able to move, talk, and think on my own. You will be my shell until I burn you out and then I'll simply get another body…maybe Mary's will do." John tensed,

"Stay away from Mary." He growled through clenched teeth and made a spring at the slim figure. She was quicker though; in a fluid motion she had him against the wall with one arm pinning him back. Her free hand was inches away from his forehead.

"Don't worry. If you simply relax you won't feel a thing and besides, if Sherlock hasn't come for you now then he probably never will." She smiled in triumph as doubt clouded her victim's eyes, "Why, John? Why would he let you and Mary suffer if he cared? Why hasn't he come? Is he even real?"

 _ **…**_

Sherlock desperately wanted to drop the watch but found to his horror that he could not. Gold light flared out of the small object. It sunk into him with violent movements, thrashing itself into his skin. He felt his body being jerked mercilessly around and his mind palace crashing around his ears. The world became a meaningless blur of shapeless objects and undistinguishable colors. He screamed and pain soared through him, climbing into his mind, bursting through any thoughts, emptying his mind palace and rebuilding. Sherlock opened his eyes wide as new strength filled him. His eyes flared gold light. He stood straighter, taller, prouder, and more terrified than he had ever stood before. New thoughts and meanings bore their way into his mind and, suddenly, everything made sense.

He was the Detective. His eyes darted to the mirror, watching as the mask of Sherlock Holmes fell away and a tear traveled down his cheek. The terrible truth was becoming evident: Sherlock Holmes was a fake. The watch went cold and he let it drop from his hand, it was a useless empty container now. The Detective looked towards the ceiling and let his eyes fall closed. He stretched out his arms letting the golden light travel through his veins; there was no point for him to fight back. This was natural. More pain shot through him as he felt his single heart separate into two, his lungs burned, and he was giving into it. He fell to his knees, the burst of energy was fading and he lacked the strength to hold himself up any longer. Good thing Mrs. Hudson wasn't home, she wouldn't like what he had done to the flat; everything was a mess.

Gold spouted from his hands. He was returning to his regular biology; no outward change, just interior. Tears streamed freely down his face. He forced his eyes open to see the blurry figure of Mycroft appear and stepped quickly forward. The Detective tried to back away, not out of fear but instinct; a Time Lord is at a vulnerable state like this. Memories flooded his head and he was flung back by an unseen force. His body crashed against the wall with more light ripping through him. William Sherlock Scott Holmes was being stripped from him like a shell from a hermit crab, exposing him to the world and it was a painful process.

"Sleep, Detective." Came Mycroft's voice and the Detective felt two hands being placed on either side of his head. A feeling of panic shot through him as Mycroft caused slumber to descend upon him. This wasn't safe, his survival instincts screamed at him. The voice of his "older brother" calmed his thoughts; Mycroft was there, nothing was going to happen to him, "It's all going to be okay, Detective…" Mycroft murmured into the man's hair as he slumped forward. The older man gently soothed the sufferer into sleep, "It's all okay…You're safe. You're back."

 _ **…**_

The therapist's eyes shot wide open and she staggered back with a scream, clutching her head. John found himself in the hospital, the real hospital. Mary sat at the end on his bed with her head bent over her book. He heard the heart monitors speed up, matching his heart rate. Mary's head shot up as his eyes closed and he returned to his land of nightmares.

The therapist was panting, her whole body shook and her eyes shouted rage.

"NO! NO! NO! TOO SOON! I'm not ready, yet! I still need time!" She groaned and reached forward, as if trying to grasp the one thing she lacked. John stared at the white wall of the room. The style of the room was set up so that he couldn't quite tell where the floor ended and the wall began. It almost looked like you could run right through it; so he tried. He rushed past the virus, charged towards the wall, and then into it. The therapist screamed again and he felt her fingernails claw and catch the back of his coat. He struggled to pull free, take the jacket off, anything but he felt himself slowly being pulled back. He was suddenly torn backwards and he landed in the middle of his imaginary park. The whole place was empty and he was alone.

"Sherlock! Mary!" He cried up to the trees above him, "Please, help me! Someone! Anyone! Please, help me!" He dropped to the ground and gave himself up. No one was coming, no one could hear him, and it was pointless to carry on like this. He was alone. Yet, John couldn't help looking up again at the blue-grey sky with a final plea, "Please, I want to go home."

 _ **…**_

Mycroft was leaning over the slim form of his "brother" who he had moved onto the sofa. The Detective awoke every now and again with a gasp of pain and a flash of gold light; when this happened Mycroft simply put him back to sleep. Now, he sat wondering if the unconscious man were going to wake up again. The light just under his skin had dimmed considerably until it was hardly noticeable; he still had to heal but it was now important that he get up and move around.

"Detective," He muttered as he prodded the shoulder of the sleeper awkwardly, "Detective, time to get up. You must move around or else something might develop wrong. Mary called…" Sherlock's eyes shot open at the sound of his friend's name. He looked wildly around him for a second before he focused on Mycroft. Sherlock breathed one word,

"John."

* * *

 **Yes, John Watson is definitely in danger.**


	14. Chapter 12: More than a Man

**Okay! Here's the next Chapter. But before we continue...**

 **WARNING: THIS IS WHERE I DECIDED THAT THE STORY'S RATING SHOULD BE "T" AND NOT "K+"!**

 **Things are gonna get a little creepy from this point on so please read with caution.**

 **Also...**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews! They have motivated me a lot lately and I really appreciate them!**

 **Now, onto the story! Enjoy!**

 **(On a completely unrelated note: I WATCHED THE SHERLOCK CHRISTMAS SPECIAL! IT WAS AMAZING AND THERE WAS ANGST AND JOHN AND MYSTERY AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOREVER TO SEE THE SEASON BUT THE SPECIAL WAS JUST SO FKJAHFKJLDKFJAKSJEIHF LADJKFUIEANLKDJFHAKLUEHLDJDHLFKAJHSLDKJHFLKAJDHHDJH DJHFAHDJ!)**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or Doctor Who**

* * *

The Detective was pacing unsteadily back and forth through his flat under the watchful eye of "Mycroft". The stouter figure tensed and even reached out now and again when his patient nearly toppled over but all his efforts to help were turned down with a snarl on the part of the Detective. Finally, the Detective collapsed onto a chair, breathing hard. Mycroft rolled his eyes,

"You need help whether you like it or not." He said simply. Sherlock glanced at him.

"I've never needed help," he retorted in his stuck-up, teenager, drama-queen manner. Mycroft apparently didn't care.

"How much do you remember?" he drilled the younger. Sherlock gave an exaggerated sigh,

"I'm the Detective; I come from the planet Gallifrey and I'm a Time Lord. You are the remains of my crashed TARDIS which I obviously didn't crash enough because you can still talk." Sherlock listed.

"Good, what else?"

"I have been on earth since the mid eighteen-hundreds and I have a companion named Mullin." The Detective turned and looked at his TARDIS, "How is Mullin? Does she remember?" Mycroft nodded,

"Yes, she called while you were sleeping; she seems very excited to be back. I expect her any moment…in fact, that could be her rushing up the stairs like a herd of Oods." As he finished his statement the door was flung open and, with brown hair flying, Molly Hooper dashed into their presence. Her eyes darted to the curly-haired man in the chair.

"Detective!" she squealed and promptly hugged him. Sherlock looked both taken back and like he wished that he could sink into the chair. Finally, the excited woman released her grip. "I've been waiting for my shift to be up so I could come and see how you were." She explained with a huge smile spreading over her face, "Um, how are you?"

The Detective blinked before standing up slowly with a straight face but a new light shining in his eyes; a light that was cold and piercing.

"I'm fine." He said simply, "How are you coping, Mullin?" The woman's smile widened (if that was even possible).

"Oh, I'm just absolutely wonderful! You have no idea how good it is to hear my real name used again!" Sherlock allowed a quick, small smile to dance around his mouth,

"No, I really wouldn't since my _real_ name hasn't been used for centuries. However, I'm much more interested in knowing if you have survived the process fully, change for me." He said in a coaxing manner. Molly stepped back eagerly and rolled her shoulders backward while tilting her head towards the ceiling. There was the sound like leaves rustling and a faint smell of something similar to smoke and there, where Molly had been, stood another Sherlock Holmes. The second Sherlock grinned and then turned slowly in a circle,

"Ta-da!" He said in a surprisingly feminine voice. The first Sherlock walked slowly around himself and inspected the duplicate.

"Can you take your original form?" He asked next. The second Sherlock went through the same process again and changed. Now there stood what was, without mistake, an alien. It had no facial hair that could be seen but smooth, silvery skin that seemed to be as bright as her personality. Her eyes were oval with three long black lashes coming out of the corners. Her figure was much like that of a human woman's and she still wore the clothes of Molly Hooper. The Detective smiled,

"Good, you may change back if you want too."

This Mullin did. She replaced her appearance with that of Molly Hooper before quickly saying,

"I have to get back to the lab now. I promised I'd be back in half an hour so I have to dash, but I'll see you later! Good-bye!" She called her farewell as she dashed back down the stairs and out the door. The Detective's smile disappeared as soon as the female did. He rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair with a look of exhaustion. Mycroft shook his head,

"You need to rest." He stated, "I have to go back to Diogenes Club so be good and stay quiet." He pointed directly at Sherlock, "We have a mental link, remember. I will be checking up on you." The Detective raised his eyebrow.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" He asked nonchalantly.

"It should." Mycroft muttered as he vanished from the room. The Detective walked stiffly over the watch and picked it up. He looked at it carefully.

"You," he addressed it, "have caused a ton of trouble." He placed it in his dressing gown pocket and scanned the room for his phone. It was gone. "Of course Mycroft would take it." Sherlock muttered as he disappeared into his bedroom. He stripped his bathrobe off and flung it onto the bed. Then he donned his coat and scarf and left the flat.

It was only 25 minutes later that he stood in the hospital next to Mary. She was trying her hardest not to cry, "He opened his eyes for a moment and then he was gone again." She whispered as she looked at the sleeping man, "The doctors and nurses won't tell me what's going on; they act as if I'm invisible or like everyone's deaf."

Sherlock didn't answer. He moved silently along the side of the bed until he was looking directly into John's face. He said nothing, just stood there and looked. Mary turned and left the room to go and corner one of the doctors and demand to know what was happening. Sherlock didn't move for a few seconds.

"John, can you hear me?"

 _ **…**_

" _John, can you hear me?"_

John lifted his head and looked around; was that Sherlock?

" _John, if you can hear me you have to do something to let me know. Can you hear me?"_

That was Sherlock's voice! John stood up and looked around. "Sherlock! Yes, I can hear you! Get me out!"

" _Can you hear me? John, you need to answer somehow!"_ Sherlock sounded almost desperate. John screamed at the top of his lungs,

"YES! I'M HERE! I CAN HEAR YOU!" Something told the army doctor, though that shouting wasn't going to be enough. He needed to send a message. So he closed his eyes and focused. Sherlock was there, Sherlock was going to get him out, and he was going to be free…

These thoughts penetrated his mind over and over again. His heart rate increased.

 _ **…**_

Sherlock turned to the monitors as they sped up. He turned back to his wounded soldier and smiled.

"That's fine, John. I know you can hear me. That's all I need from you; you can come home now." With this, the Detective placed his hands gently on either side of John's forehead, "Time to wake up."

 _ **…**_

John heard Sherlock saying that it was time to come home. He collapsed with joy. He was going home!

"Have a nice trip." Another voice hissed. A feeling of dread filled John as he turned to see his therapist stagger towards him. Her clothes were ripped and her face was torn; half of her face was hanging off to the side and another face peered out from behind it. The womanly hands reached up and clawed the rest of the first face off. Then the whole figure of the therapist fell away like cloth; in her place stood a man in a spotless, rumpled suite. He still looked weak but he smirked at John's fear.

"You...you…you…" Was all John could stammer.

"Yes," the man replied, "Me. Is it really that surprising, Dr. Watson? I mean, really; did you miss me that much?" He smiled again, "Sherlock misses you too, Johnny boy. So why don't you just wake up? You won't even know I'm here." Moriarity was suddenly right in front of him, "I promise."

 _ **…**_

Sherlock looked worriedly down into the face of his dying blogger, "Come on, John, for Mary…for me. Come on, wake up; you can do it." He muttered gently. Suddenly his face smoothed and he removed his hands from John's head. The army doctor's eyelids fluttered, "Mary!" Sherlock cried, "Mary! He's coming to!" Mary rushed in,

"John!" She called frantically, "John! Wake up, please!" There were a few seconds of silence in which the Detective could feel his whole body shaking with the pounding of his two hearts.

John's eyes opened and he looked from one face to another. Mary held her breath but Sherlock leaned forward,

"John?" The man turned to his best friend,

"Did you miss me?" He asked in a dry voice and let a small smile trace his lips. Sherlock let his whole body relax and his deep laugh filled the small room. Mary stood stock still with her face as white as a sheet; Sherlock quickly caught her as she collapsed to the ground sobbing. Sherlock soothed the woman and smiled at John,

"Yes, you've been out for five weeks. We've all missed you."

* * *

 **So there we go, John's awake, Sherlock's happy, Mary's crying buckets and buckets, and yeah. Merry Christmas! :)**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	15. Chapter 13: Missing Watch, Found

**Hello my extremely patient readers! First off, I can't thank all the reviewers enough. Every time I get a new review it just makes my day! So, again, thank you bunches! :)**

 **After this point there are going to be a lot more crossover moments. Also, every chapter brings us closer to the Detective and the Doctor meeting up!**

 **So...yeah...Enjoy and all that jazz!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Sherlock (but the Christmas special for Sherlock was amazing. If you haven't seen it go watch it now.)**

* * *

John's sudden awakening was to be talked of for weeks by all the nurses. It had been totally uncalled for by anyone. Sherlock smiled gently as Mary and John sat close and talked in whispers; he felt a jolt of pain streak through his body,

" _Too soon, too soon,"_ he thought with a wince, " _still healing. I shouldn't be forcing people out of comas this early in returning to my original biology…in fact, I probably shouldn't be doing that in the first place."_ He glanced down at his hands; the pale golden glow was growing steadily stronger. Another glance at the Watsons told the Detective that he wouldn't be missed; the lovers were too caught up in each other to notice the third wheel in the room. So, without further ado, the Detective left the hospital.

Once outside and more or less in private, he allowed the gold light to escape. Nothing big or flashy, just some gold light flowing through his lips; anyone would have thought that he had been smoking something interesting.

Instead of returning to the hospital, Sherlock went home. Mary and John would appreciate the privacy. And so, with the thought of relaxing or even sleeping, the Detective climbed the stairs up to his flat door. Upon opening it, however, he gave a start. For there, sitting upon the sofa, was Donna Noble! She rose as he entered; her face held an anxious look,

"Mr. Holmes, I've come to tell you as much about the truth as I can." Sherlock glanced at her with a new look on his face. He moved slowly over to his chair and arranged himself in it,

"You may continue, Ms. Noble." Donna sat back down and began over her story.

"I do actually travel, and during one of my travels I found a watch. This watch interested a close friend of mine very much. I can't give you his name because I haven't asked him permission to do so. However, during our traveling through London…sometime last week, I believe…we had an accident. During this accident I think is when the watch was lost. I can't tell you all the roads or places that we were as the accident was happening."

"Can you tell me what the watch looked like?" The Detective asked the temp,

"It's silver pocket watch. I think my friend called it a 'fob' watch. It's got this sort of circle design on it. There's a place for a chain but there wasn't any chain when I found it. And…" Here, Donna trailed off into an awkward silence.

"Yes?" The Detective prompted,

"…This is gonna sound a little…strange, but the watch felt warm at times, like it was heated from the inside or something."

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked as he rose and moved towards the mantle,

"No, I only had it for a few days and even then I didn't really get to look at it at all." Donna said with obvious disappointment in her voice. Sherlock turned towards her; she watched his hand slip into his pocket and he opened his mouth to speak. Donna's phone went off with the sound of a fog horn that made them both jump. Donna groaned as she dug her cell phone out of her purse,

"What?!" She snapped. Sherlock blinked and watched Donna's conversation with deductions running through his head at her every move. "No, really?...Is he okay?...Well, I'm kinda…Okay, if he says it's important…Yes, I'll be there in just a minute…No, I remember where he parked…Alright, good-bye…Yes, I'll come just as soon as I can…Bye." She hung up and returned the phone to its rightful place, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was just going to say that I can't promise anything but I'll see if I can find your misplaced fob watch." Donna's face lit up with joy,

"Oh! Thank you! I've got to dash but thank you!" She turned and began to run down the stairs, "Oh!" She cried as she stopped and raced back up, "I forgot to give this to you! Here, it's my phone number!" She shoved the small card into his hand, "Call me if you find anything!" She shouted as she closed the front door with a bang. Sherlock stood in the center of the empty room laughing silently to himself,

" _Ah, humans,"_ he thought, _"I shall never understand them fully."_

…

The Doctor adjusted another wire on the machine before giving it a vigorous shake. Jack sat by watching the Time Lord mess with the device. Suddenly it gave a long shrill beep. The Captain covered his ears and winced as the piercing noise filled the time machine. The Doctor, with a look of determined fury, slammed the Timey-Wimey Detector against the floor; the beeping stopped. Donna crashed through the doors with a look that said she was ready for anything. She glanced from one man to the other and then placed her hands on her hips,

"THIS is important?! I was on the other side of town and you call me saying that you've got something 'important'. So what do I do? I grab my stuff and run ACROSS TOWN to come and see you two sittin' here and doing ABSOLUTELY nothin'!" Jack and the Doctor glanced at each other before the Time Lord picked himself up slowly from where he had placed himself on the ground. His long fingers directed her attention to the hanging screen.

"I got some new readings." He said quietly, "There is still that growing something-or-other but now there are three signals total. This one," here, he pointed to one of the marker lights on the screen, "is the most dormit. It hasn't moved at all since I started tracking it," he moved his finger to the second light. It was the brightest of the three and seemed to pulse with some form of energy, "This is the strongest one as well as the least stable; it keeps flashing and then almost going out and moving everywhere and just being downright hard to keep an eye on."

"And the last one?" Donna asked as she pointed to that tiny third light which seemed to be growing but she couldn't be quite sure.

"That one was the one we were originally tracking but it seems to have shrunk significantly, I'm honestly not that worried about it right now." Jack joined them at the control panel,

"I say we split up." He suggested, "Donna and I can go check out the dormit signal and you go see what the dangerous one is and then we can all go see what that tiny bugger is just for fun." He smiled warmly at the partners in crime. "Oh, come on!" he pleaded when they both gave him 'that look', "It'll get us done faster, than we can go find the watch."

Donna's phone chimed, alerting her that she had received a text message. With a little difficulty she pulled out the electronic and glanced at the screen. A smug smile of triumph flashed across her face. She shoved the phone at the Doctor's face so that he had to lean backwards in order to see it clearly. On the phone was a picture of the pocket watch along with a text message that ran:

 _Believe I found it, please come by to confirm -SH_

"How's that for progress!?" Donna snapped with a grin and a small chuckle, "you can thank me later." The Doctor snatched the phone from the temp's hands and put on his glasses,

"How?" He stammered, "When? Where? Who?!" He looked up again, "Who? Donna, who did you tell about this?!" He tore off his spectacles and towered over her, "You need to tell me now!" His outward appearance was dark and stormy but his eyes held a desperate look of fear and hope.

Donna stepped back, "I found a detective. I didn't tell him anything about the watch, I promise! All I did was say that I had found a watch and lost it and then I told him that it was in London somewhere and I told him what the watch looked like and that it felt warm sometimes…" She trailed off and the Doctor growled in frustration,

"Did you even think?!" he lashed at her through clenched teeth, "You know nothing about that watch! Do you even know what will happen if he opens that?! Do you!?" Jack stepped forward and grabbed the Time Lord's arm,

"Doctor! You can't get emotional! Focus! Donna hasn't done anything wrong. She's just trying to help you!" The Doctor seemed to tremble with anger as his piercing eyes turned on Jack but, quite suddenly, they changed. His whole frame seemed to diminish in power and his eyes no longer burned with dangerous emotion and that look of shame that always hung about him returned as he looked back at Donna.

"I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry." He muttered as he ducked his head, unable to meet her gaze. Donna re-approached the Doctor,

"I'm the one who ought to be sorry; I should've asked you first." The Doctor sniffed loudly and grabbed his trench coat. He smiled at Jack and Donna and clicked his tongue,

"Still, this makes it interesting! Let's go!" He grabbed his Timey-Wimey detector and dashed out onto the streets of London with vigor that would have seemed happy to anyone. Donna and Jack walked slowly out of the TARDIS sharing a look, for the Doctor's smile hadn't reached his eyes.

* * *

 **Up next: the Doctor gets distracted by some adorable small humans!**

 **Also, happy travels to all those going to the March for Life! I'm going this year so I'll be praying hard for all the babies!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	16. Chapter 14: Ding

**Guess who's back...back again...yes she's back...tell a friend.**

 **More like 'Guess who's still hasn't updated in forever'. But anyway, I decided that you all had waited long enough-**

 **Oh what am I saying? I can't keep up a story scheduled to save my life. You guys are all awesome and patient!**

 **Thanks to all the people who left reviews! They really mean the world to me!**

 **Okay, I've zero knowledge of England because I'm in the USA and I have no idea if St. Bart's is even real. I also don't know how hospitals work or how they do anything because I've only ever been in one long enough to see a new baby brother or sister. The moments inside of St. Bart's are really for the convenience of the character or for humor.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Sherlock**

* * *

Molly sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, setting down the stack of papers on a nearby table. She was trying to imagine the inside of the Detective's TARDIS. It wasn't hard, a railing that flowed along the hallway and out around the room only making sharp turns where the stairs cases were. She could see the beautiful consul as it rose up from the floor and sloped against the dome ceiling. The walls, she remembered, had been a grey-blue metal with wood engravings scattered all throughout them. The floor was made from a silver material and was all one piece. With another sigh Molly imagined turning slowly and looking up to see the Gallifreyan designs on the ceiling. She thought of walking down the hallway and through the door.

"Ms. Hooper?" Molly's eye flew open and she spun around,

"YES!?" She exclaimed louder than she had intended. She smiled a large smile at the janitor, "Oh, Michal! You startled me. What can I do for you?" The man raised an eyebrow,

"I was just wondering if I could just mop up the floor in this room?" He asked as he motioned to the floor with one hand. Molly glanced down at the ground and then back up at the man,

"Oh! Of course! Absolutely, I will definitely let you get on with your work…" She trailed off to a murmur as she dodged out to the room. That was embarrassing.

 _Outside…_

The Doctor trained his Timey-Wimey Detector straight ahead of him as he practically rammed his way through the busy streets of London. With a look of determination he plowed his way against the flow of the crowd, leaving Donna and Jack struggling to keep up with him. They were finally on the verge of meeting up with him when the Time Lord stopped abruptly. If Donna hadn't stopped fast enough they would've all ended up on the sidewalk. The Doctor swung the device towards the building next to him and then back towards the course they had been traveling. He look conflicted for a few moments as he swung his arm back and forth.

"What's up?" Jack asked at last,

"There's a signal coming from the building…" The Doctor weighed the situation in his mind, "We-e-ll, since we're right here we might as well check out this other signal. Kill two partridges with one stone!" Donna blinked,

"What?" she asked but the Doctor had already dashed into St. Bart's Hospital.

The trio paused just inside the doors.

"This way!" The Doctor announced and they were off again. They dashed down hallways and dove through different doorways. Jack narrowly missed crashing into a wall and Donna tripped more than once. The Doctor grabbed her hand as she almost tripped again, "Allons-y, Donna!" He jerked her back up and continued to rush down the hallway. The three shoved their way into a room and stopped. In the room were the beds of newborn babies. Tiny cribs lined the wall. The Doctor simply melted at the sight of it.

"Awwwwwwwwwww!" He exclaimed again and again as he peered at the little bundles. Donna and Jack stood motionless. They were both thinking about how the Doctor had refused to stop for food, water, or any sort of break and now he was talking to babies. The two adult humans exchanged a look.

"Oi!" The Doctor's voice broke through their thoughts, "Don't tell her that she's adopted! That's mean!" He turned to another child, "No, no that's not a mirror, that's your twin. And you, you're bald too so don't start teasing him. No, Donna's not fat, she just doesn't like to run. Okay, **you** shouldn't even be thinking like that…he's waaay to old for you. Oh? Do you? Thanks, I like it too. What do you mean, 'Not Mum'? You can't go around calling everyone 'Not Mum', what about your Dad? Oh…well that's unfortunate…for the cat. Hey, you! Yes, you! Stop eating her feet she doesn't appreciate it…I don't care if she was hitting you in the face that doesn't give you any right to go eating her feet!" Donna rolled her eyes,

"Umm…Doctor? Growing source of power, we have to save the world?" Jack prompted. The Doctor looked up,

"Oh, right, yeah. I suppose that we should go do that…" He glanced back at the children quietly looking up at him. "Sorry, um, I got to go but you all be good for your parents and someday I'll bring you back something from space!" He called as Donna dragged him out of the room.

Once outside they were off again and the Doctor was more determined than ever. Finally he stopped outside of a door,

"It's through here…" he breath, "Act natural, we don't want to freak it out if it's alive." Donna and Jack nodded. The Doctor took a breath, "One…Two…"

The door swung open and hit Jack in the face, "Ow!" He exclaimed causing the short woman to spin around, her ponytail flying out behind her,

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you! Are you alright?" She asked as she stepped closer to check his face. Jack rubbed it a few times before winking at her,

"Nothing like a pretty lady to knock a man senseless." He flirted with a grin. The Doctor immediately stepped between them,

"Okay, stop." He ordered.

*Ding*

There was silence for a moment as the four people looked at one another. The Doctor blinked and looked around.

*Ding*

Donna looked pointedly at the Doctor who was looking down the hallway.

*Ding*

Jack was also staring at the Time Lord who was now looking toward the ceiling, trying to locate where the sound was coming from.

*Ding*

By this point in time even Molly had realized that the sound was coming from the skinny man who seemed to be completely unaware that they were all staring at him. He looked behind him once more and Donna rolled her eyes.

*Ding*

"Doctor!" She snapped, "That's your thing!" The Doctor stopped to look at her with a completely blank expression on his face,

"What?"

*Ding*

Molly stooped over and picked up the device which had fallen to the floor. She held it out towards the Doctor,

"Is this yours?"

*Ding*

The Doctor looked at it before glancing at the woman holding it. He reached out slowly and took the Timey-Wimey detector. He continued to stare at the girl,

"Yes, it's mine. Thank you very much for getting it for me…" Jack slid forward quietly behind her. The Doctor leaned close and peered into the female's eyes. She leaned away and took a step back.

*Ding*

Jack got ready to do whatever was needed by the Doctor. The thin alien's smile faded into a look of consideration,

"You're not human, are you?" The girl's eyes widened slightly and her body stiffened. She drew herself up straight, forcing the Doctor to back up.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

*Ding*

* * *

 **So yeah...babies!**


	17. Chapter 15: Get Well Soon

_**...And believe me I am still alive! I'm doing school work and I'm still alive! I'm typing stories (kind of) and I'm still alive! I not updating but I'm still alive!**_

 _ **Still alive!**_

 _ **Still alive...**_

 **For those who didn't get that go look up Portal 'Still Alive' and then you'll get it.**

 **Okay, back to the story!**

 **Last time we partook on this journey we had the Doctor and Donna (and Jack) facing off against adorable tiny humans and then Molly made an appearance and then the Doctor was all like,**

 **"You're not human, are you?" And Molly was all like,**

 **"I don't know what you're talking about." And Jack and Donna were all like,**

 **"Okay, let's be ready in case something weird happens." And I was all like,**

 **"Greeeeeeat, I don't know where to go with this anymore...guess I'll go back to Sherlock and John" And you guys were all like,**

 **"..." Because I don't know what you guys were all like. So there we go, everybody's back up to speed.**

 **As mentioned above, this chapter is about John and Mary and Sherlock and Mycroft. So just hold on, Whovians, we'll get back to the Doctor...eventually...**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Still don't own BBC Sherlock or Doctor Who but if you guys know someone who does, we need to get some fanfiction ideas to them because...well...why not?**

* * *

Mary knocked on the door frame of the hospital room. She couldn't believe that John was awake and ready to go home. The couple had been with each other non-stop since the army doctor had woken up.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile. John looked up from buttoning his shirt,

"Hey!" He replied as he straightened up,

"You ready to go home?" Mary asked as her smile grew brighter,

"More than you would know." John answered as he kissed her. The three endless days that he had spent awake in the hospital were becoming no more than a dreadful memory now. A nurse stopped behind the couple and stood awkwardly waiting for them to break physical contact,

"Ahem." She cleared her throat rather loudly. The Watsons parted abruptly and turned to her,

"Sorry," John said with a slight blush running up his neck, "yes? Can I help you?" He asked quickly as Mary giggled beside him. The nurse smiled,

"Just a quick reminder that we want you back in three days just so we can check up on you and see how it's going." She smiled again, "Have a great day!"

"You too!" Mary replied and the nurse disappeared into another room, "Home?" She asked her husband. The army doctor offered her his arm,

"Home it is!" The two left the hospital and had just gotten into a cab before John suddenly turned to his wife, "Did Sherlock know I was leaving today?" Mary couldn't help but grin,

"I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually." Watson looked accusingly at his bride, "What?" she asked with an even wider smile now, "He didn't answer his phone!" John rolled his eyes,

"Of course he didn't," he muttered before sinking back against the seat with Mary's head resting on his shoulder. He was just glad to be going home.

 **…**

"Sherlock Holmes here to see Doctor Watson," The nurse looked up at the tall man. He had been in here before and she was use to seeing his thin face and dark circles under his eyes but today he looked worse,

"Ummm," she clicked away on her keyboard for a few moments, "He…checked out this morning, I'm afraid you've just missed them." Sherlock blinked a few times,

"Oh," he paused, "thank you." The Detective turned and walked out of the hospital with the nurse's worried eyes on his back. Sherlock could feel her watching him and he was determined to make it outside and out of her line of sight before he collapsed, or before Mycroft realized that he wasn't back at 221B resting. He successfully made it out to the parking lot and headed towards the road to hail a cab. His head was filled with a dull throbbing as well as a strange empty lightness and his chest felt like it was afire. All in all he felt terrible, and he was certain he looked just about as bad as he felt. He took another step and stumbled. He would've fallen if an arm hadn't grabbed him,

"Steady, brother mine." The smooth voice said gently. The Detective groaned,

"Not related," he grunted. Mycroft made no reply but the Detective found himself standing in the middle of his bedroom. He glanced around with some disgust but flopped down on the bed nonetheless. Mycroft stood silently over him for a few minutes watching Sherlock kick off his shoes which fell onto the floor. The remains of the TARDIS rolled its eyes before seizing the end of the covers and settling them over the time lord's body.

"Get some rest, Detective. You'll feel better in a few days." He assured the Detective,

"…Every regeneration is different…" Sherlock muttered. Why did he feel so darn tired?! Mycroft smiled,

"That's true, no telling how this will end up. It's not like I'm a living machine that can see all of time and space, after all."

"That was sarcasm." Sherlock said into the pillow. Mycroft rolled his eyes again,

"Oh, you're still observant, then. Good, I thought you were turning into an idiot."

"More sarcasm." Mycroft sighed and pushed the black curls away from the hard eyes that glared up in his direction.

"Sleep, Detective, it will do you good." Sherlock didn't answer but Mycroft didn't expect him to. The time lord waited until Mycroft had left (probably going back to Diogenes Club before Anthea discovered he was gone) before feeling in his pockets for his mobile. Once he had successfully found it he punched in the Watson's phone number and waited. The third ring was cut short and then a moment of silence before the Detective heard John's voice,

"Hello?" The wave of emotion that hit the alien surprised him, just **hearing** John again was filling him with sentiment. He wondered when he had started to care so much,

"Hello, John." Sherlock answered into the phone,

"Oh! Sherlock! It's great to hear from you, mate! Mary said that you weren't doing too well since I went to the hospital, how are you feeling?" Typical Dr. Watson, always thinking of others' health despite the fact that he had just woken up from a coma,

"I'm fine, how are you and Mary doing?" Sherlock was trying to get off the subject of his health. He didn't want John to find out that he was different. Why the Detective wanted to keep it a secret he wasn't exactly sure but he felt that, for now, it was probably the best course of action.

"Mary's great, the baby's great, I'm great, everything's pretty much great over here," John answered cheerfully, "I mean, there have been some ups and downs but it seems like it's gonna be smooth sailing from here on out."

"Glad to hear it, John. I'm surprised at how rapidly you seem to be recovering from this."

"Yep, well, the doctor wants me back in a few days just for a checkup. They'll be doing those pretty regularly for a while I think."

"Mmm, dull."

"Oh yes," John drawled sarcastically, "so unbelievably dull." Sherlock chuckled,

"But necessary?" He asked,

"Yeah, considering that I was in a coma for a while I'd say that frequent visits to a doctor are pretty necessary at this point in time."

"Still dull." John laughed,

"Yes, unfortunately, they still haven't figured out a way to make doctor appointments interesting by your standards." Sherlock smiled again; this was the John Watson he knew…at least-

"John, I'm sorry, but I have to go. Mary would kill me if she found out that I was keeping you from getting rest." John laughed again,

"Actually, you're right, she probably would." The army doctor agreed, "Alrighty, then, I'll catch you later…or, you know, maybe I won't. It depends on how generous Mary's feeling." Sherlock smiled,

"Bye, John,"

"Ciao!" The call ended and Sherlock lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. _Doctor John Watson…Doctor John Watson…_ Sherlock let his eyes fall shut and retreated back into his mind palace.

The whole place was a mess; there were papers and books everywhere. The different people in his mind palace where sorting through the confusion trying to organize everything. Molly was hunting through boxes, trying to find what the Detective wanted,

"Here it is!" She shouted suddenly and waved a brown leather book in the air. Sherlock walked over to her and took the book. He opened it up and the whole room around him changed. He stood in a large white circular room with seats lining the walls. At each of these chairs there stood a man; Sherlock looked around him slowly at each man.

"How are you possible, John?" One of the men turned,

"I'm not sure, Holmes, that's why you're here." Sherlock moved closer to the man,

"I'm a time lord, I can regenerate. You, on the other hand, can't because you're human. So, that being said, why have I met you over and over and over again?" Watson fingered his mustache,

"Sherlock," a voice came from the other side of the room. Sherlock turned to face modern-day John, "I don't mean to interrupt you but Mrs. Hudson's coming up the stairs." Sherlock shook his head,

"Unimportant, my door's closed and locked so she won't come in. I'm busy thinking and don't need distractions. Please pay attention." He looked around him slowly. The men around him continued to stare at him blankly. Typical Dr. John Watson, the story writer just waiting for Sherlock Holmes to shed light on the problems so he could record it for a story. But, after all, that's all Sherlock Holmes was: a story. Also, John wasn't the only one who seemed to enjoy frequent visits throughout the consulting detective's time lines. Mrs. Hutson, Mary, Lestrade, even Anderson had made themselves familiar to him before, even if just in name. Mullin had been saved to the TARDIS' databanks and had only just returned to being 'physical'.

The Detective looked around again, this was getting him nowhere. He needed to look into the past. He was in a tunnel suddenly with the walls flying past him until he held up his hand to stop them. He was in the earth year 1880. The year he first became human to hide from 'The Family'. He replayed the scene in his head his TARDIS crashing into the planet and just a few days later he was solving crimes. Six years later he had met Sir Arthur Doyle who had published a book about him based on the narrative accounts given to him by Dr. Watson. There was a reason why people believed that Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character and for that same reason he was never mentioned in the police reports. To them, it was impossible for such a man to exist throughout all of history. The Detective smirked before moving his memories forward a few years. Watson had passed away, he remembered, traveling forward even further found himself on death's door. That was when Mycroft had shown him the watch and given him his memories back. He had regenerated.

The fact that 'The Family' had killed a time agent and stolen a damaged, but usable, time vortex manipulator had made it so they each could take a trip forwards in time. No telling how far they could or would go so the Detective had been forced into hiding for decades.

Mycroft appeared silently and stepped forward, Sherlock's brain activity was far too high for him to be sleeping. The machine looked down at his responsibility. With gentleness that no one would've ever thought Mycroft Holmes capable of he placed his hands on either side of the Detective's head. Sherlock's eyes shot open in protest but a second later he went limp as a forced sleep washed over him.

 **...**

Mary sat up and glanced at the clock. It read 6:27, no point in going back to sleep for three minutes she decided as she switched off the alarm. John shifted slightly next to her and she kissed him on the forehead. It was so good to have him home. She smiled as she slowly eased her way out of bed so as not to wake him up. Once out of the bed room she couldn't help but notice how dark the living room was. The curtains were drawn tightly closed and the lamps were all turned off. She stumbled over to the nearest lamp and tried to switch it on but nothing happened. She bent down and groped on the floor for a few seconds before finding the plug lying on the floor. It was as if someone had unplugged the lamp like they were afraid it would suddenly light up the room even after they had turned it off. Mary made her way over to the windows and pushed the curtains open. The grey blue morning light streamed in, more than happy to make the room seeable again. Mrs. Watson nodded in satisfaction at the London streets before turning back to the living room. She froze.

Scattered all over the room were apples. At least two dozen deep red apples stared back at her from the floor, sofa, coffee table, kitchen counter, and TV cabinet. Each apple had something carved into it; a crude circle filled with lines and more circles. Some designs were simple and others were more complex but whoever had done it had spent a lot of time on them. Mary moved as if in a dream over to the coffee table and picked up an apple. This one wasn't so neatly done as the others; the circle looked more like a crushed oval and a majority of the design was lost. This was because it was covered by the black handle of one of the Watson's kitchen knives which was stuck fast into the middle of the apple with the blade running straight through with the point jutting out on the other side.

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 **Apples...apples are rubbish...**

 **Please let me know what you guys thought of this chapter!**

 **Also, speaking of apples, a shout-out to my sis, ThePro-LifeCatholic for coming up with such an amazing idea. Her stories are truly amazing. Why are you still reading this? Go check out her stories!**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	18. True Colors

**Hello, faithful readers! I have had this chapter typed up for a while now but I wasn't sure if I liked how it ended so I changed it a bit and then just decided to post it.**

 **My sister, ThePro-LifeCatholic, typed up the last paragraph for me so if you guys read and/or review/message her don't forget to tell her how awesome the ending paragraph is!**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Sherlock, and all the characters belong to the BBC...which isn't me by the by.**

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"I don't know what you're talking about." Molly stiffened even more as Jack stepped closer,

"Doctor? What are you going on about?" The Time Lord whipped out his sonic and pointed it at the girl. Donna wasn't exactly certain what happened next but whatever it was ended in the Doctor face down on the floor, Jack's head on the counter and her being roughly shoved backwards. The swinging of the door quickly told the trio which way their suspect had gone. They hurried out and crashed head-long into a middle aged male janitor.

"Did you see a girl run through here?!" Donna demanded. The bewildered man pointed towards a door a little ways down and the three adventurers dashed off without so much as a thank you. If the Doctor had stayed just long enough to hear a sound similar to the noise of rustling leaves he would've realized his mistake. The janitor took back her original appearance and slipped out of the building towards 221B Baker St. So much for taking on an early shift.

 _Meanwhile…_

Mary stared at the apple in her hand before dropping it like she had been bitten. With shaking fingers she dialed Sherlock's number and waited. Sherlock picked his head off of the pillows and pried his eyes open. His head was still pounding but he did feel significantly better than yesterday. His pale fingers snaked around the phone and he put it up to his ear,

"Sherlock Holmes," He murmured, the sound of recent sleeping present in his voice.

"Sherlock, it's Mary," Came the quite voice, "I think someone's threatening John…or me…or both. Just, can you get down here and check it out?" Sherlock shoved back the blankets,

"I'm on my way, don't touch anything."

"Bit late, I'm afraid," Mary said with regret,

"Then don't touch anything else." With that Sherlock hung up the phone and fell off the bed, "Ouch." He muttered as he untangled his feet from the bed sheets. He quickly got changed and presentable for the Watsons. Ten minutes later he was walking up to their front door. Mary answered his knock and ushered him inside.

"John's still asleep, the apples are in here,"

"Apples?" Sherlock asked, obviously confused before he looked around the family room, "Oh, apples." He bent down and froze, "Gallifreyan" The word was barely audible and was spoken with disbelief.

"What?" Mary asked, worry now evident in her voice. Sherlock straightened and picked up the apple with his gloved hand,

"Hm? Oh, nothing," He waved the question away, forcing himself to sound casual, "It's…Uhhh, an ancient language. It originated iiiiiiiiinnnnnnnn," He dragged out the 'in' as he dug through his brain to think of a convincing lie, "Scotland, I think." He looked the apples over carefully, "Here, where the juice dripped down, the burglar left a finger print. This is almost too easy, it worries me." The last sentence was whispered under the Detective's breath so Mary didn't hear. The two of them turned as John entered the room,

"Ummm, morning?" He asked as he looked between the two: Mary still in her dressing gown and Sherlock in full detective get up minus his shoes which Mary had insisted he take off in the hallway.

"Good morning." Sherlock replied as he returned to investigating. Mary smiled and crossed the room,

"Tea?" She asked and John nodded, "Sherlock, do you want tea?"

"No," Sherlock answered distractedly, "Thank you." John shook his head,

"Sherlock, you're dehydrated and you've recently been neglecting your health. You got out of bed early this morning, barely gave yourself time to change and practically ran all the way here. Seeing the mud marks on your trousers indicates that you didn't stick to the sidewalk the entire way either, you'll have tea." Sherlock raised his eyes and locked them on John's firm expression.

"Tea would be lovely, Mary, thank you." His eyes didn't leave the army doctor's face as he said this but then his head dropped back down to his work,

"What's going on?" John asked as he crouched down next to the Detective, "Where did all the apples come from?"

"From your fruit basket of course," the Detective answered, "but now they reside all over the front room."

"Why?"

"Because the person who carved them seemed to like them in the front room."

"Okay, when do we catch this carver?"

"When I find him." After that, Sherlock ignored John. He had trouble enough finding the answer without John's constant questions getting fired at him. However, as John turned away and strode into the kitchen the Detective allowed his eyes to lock back on him. John was doing remarkably well for someone who just came out of a coma. He was alert and energetic, ate well, and was already prepared to take back up work. It just was wrong.

He turned his attention back to the apples. He could read them all quite easily. He organized them and read each over carefully,

 _I can think_

 _I can see_

 _I have lived_

 _I have died_

 _I know_

 _I am falling_

 _I am Alive_

 _I am growing_

 _We are separate_

 _We are not the same_

The final apple was mangled so much that Sherlock couldn't make out what was written on it. He picked it up and slid the knife out carefully and looked at the writing closely.

"Whoever put the knife into the apple had to try several times before they got it straight through, like they had trouble handling the knife." Mind-Molly said as the image of the apple appeared in the mind palace,

"However," Anderson broke in, "We know that whoever stabbed this apple also carved the designs in all the other ones, so why would he or she suddenly be rendered skill-less?"

"We also know that this was the last apple to be carved, of course." Mycroft said with a smug look. The Detective looked towards him,

"We do?" He asked with a look of slight confusion.

"Of course, we do. The oxidation process is quite an interesting thing. It's easy to see that this apple has been out for at least an hour while some of the others appear to have been out for as long as four hours."

"There were no figure prints on the door, so whoever it was must of washed his or her hands." Molly added,

"Or it." Anderson commented.

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked,

"What we're dealing with knows Gallifreyan." Anderson pointed out, "Probability says that it's not human."

"A threat?" Lestrade asked

"Not sure," Molly shook her head, "these aren't exactly 'threatening' messages but whoever did it must've broken in to do it. It doesn't make sense."

"When are we gonna decipher the message?" Anderson asked impatiently.

"Right now, apparently." Mycroft said as he swung his umbrella around a couple times. "Well, Sherlock, let's begin by mentally removing the gash in the middle made by the knife."

"I see an 'H'!" Anderson shouted as he waved his arm in the air. Redbeard whimpered as he paced around the Detective's legs.

"Hush, boy." The pale man muttered distractedly,

"He's right, you know." Donavan spoke up as she waltzed into the room, "You're missing something really obvious."

"Shhh," Irene whispered, "he's thinking, don't bother him." Mycroft waved his hand and suddenly he and Sherlock were the only people in the room.

"Focus, Brother dear," he instructed, "There's two words. One consists of four letters, the other of six. Figure out the shorter one first. The first letter is visible; it's a 'J', the next letter is to mangled to figure out efficiently but-"

"We can decipher what it is based on the rest of the visible letters." Sherlock broke in.

"Precisely," Mycroft nodded. Sherlock focused on the apple more closely,

"So we have 'J' and 'H'. The next letter is either an 'K' or an 'N'."

"Well, I, for one, am unaware of any word that has a 'H' followed by a 'K'."

"But what about 'H' followed by 'N'? Isn't that also rather irrational?" Mycroft simply looked at him,

"You know exactly what word has a 'H' followed by 'N', you just don't want it to be that word so you're avoiding it. It's obviously 'John' and the second word that begins 'W' 'A' 'T' is easily assumed to be 'Watson'."

So that was it, the final apple said _John Watson_. Sherlock rose and noticed a cup of tea on the coffee table next to him. He didn't have time for tea, he had to analyze these finger prints and figure out who was responsible for all of this. He swung around without a word, still holding the apple that held his friend's name, and swept out of the house; stopping only to put back on his shoes.

He didn't turn around to see John watching him leave, and he failed to notice the army doctor's reflection in the mirror. If he had, then he might've witnessed a rather troubling sight: the reflection showed the back of a black, well-tailored suit; pale white fingers reached up and adjusted an unseen tie. Then a hand was passed over the head, ruffling short black hair before pausing, lightly fingering a large gash, still fresh and with a bullet hole lodged in the center of a hollow perforation.

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 **Have you ever wondered if, while no one's looking, the reflection of your back isn't the reflection of your back?**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


	19. Chapter 17: Getting to Know You

**Welcome back! I know it has been a while but I console myself by knowing that I'm posting chapters more often than BBC Sherlock is releasing seasons...or episodes...or trailers...or anything at all. Great, now I've given myself feels.**

 **Anyway, to comfort myself on lack of said things I found an amazing TV show called Endeavour it is also a British mystery show and you can watch seasons 1 and 2 on Amazon Prime. If you like to have feels during episodes than this show is for you. (IalsoblameEndeavourforthelackofchaptersinmystories) **

**So yeah, go check it out but if you read this first I hope you enjoy. I also want to thank all those who commented, complimented, and voiced their opinions on my previous chapters. You guys are amazing! :)**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**

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 **I still don't own anything other than the idea and anything else that isn't in the shows BBC Doctor Who or BBC Sherlock**

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It didn't take Molly long to get back to 221B but she was dismayed when she was stopped by Mrs. Hudson,

"Sherlock's out dear, I believe he's taken up a case of some sort." Molly mustered up the happiest smile she could,

"I'll just wait upstairs for him, then. Thanks a bunch, Mrs. Hudson." She ascended the stairs as slowly as she dared and entered into the flat. She stared at the mess before her. She hadn't realized it when she first returned to the mind-set of a Pachem and had come barging in, but now it was all laid out before her. Sherlock's chair was overturned, sheet music and possibly important files were scattered across the floor, and the violin was resting on a mountain of pillows. Mullin smiled as she walked over to it,

"What did he do, then?" she asked the violin in a hushed voice, "Get every pillow from the block to make you a throne?" She pulled out her mobile and began to text the Detective,

'At your flat, compromised. Pls come.' She hit send before beginning to straighten up everything.

Sherlock had just entered the hospital when he got the text. One look at it and he felt his eyes widen and he immediately shoved the plastic bag containing the apple into his coat pocket and raced out of the building. He felt his chest pounding with his two hearts (it was such an odd feeling for someone who'd been human for so long). He shoved by pedestrians and nearly got run over multiple times. At one point he found himself running by a man with a blue coat billowing out behind him. The man grinned,

"Is everyone running around London these days?" He asked and Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly,

"Why not? It's much faster than walking and a brilliant form of exercise!" With that he dove into an alleyway and began to scale the building. He knew that if he cut through here he could get to the flat in two minutes flat, no pun intended. He managed to scramble over the building but now he felt his breath becoming more ragged. He stumbled on the side walk but wasn't about to give up. He came around the corner of Baker St. and ground to a dead halt before hiding himself again, still panting for breath. Three people had just entered the flat. He'd have to wait until he caught his breath again; if he came barging in out of breath there would be questions but if he came home casually, he would have more control of the situation and more reasons to ask questions of them.

Mullin had just re-emerged from the bedroom with the small silver watch in her hands when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They weren't Sherlock's. Her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp as she slipped back into the room and pushed the watch hurriedly in between the mattress and box springs of the Detective's bed. She returned to the door of the bedroom and opened it just a crack. She peered through to observe the newcomers and see what they would do.

The Doctor came in first with his eyes wide and his eyebrows determined. Jack and Donna were less impressive, panting for breath and Donna accusing the skinny man of running them practically to death. Then the Timey-Whimey Detector came out and the Doctor waved it around the room,

"This is where that tiny signal was coming from…" He muttered, "Whoever we were chasing definitely came in here." The device gave out a half-hearted ding and then promptly died on the Doctor. He growled and shook the machine but nothing happened.

"Do you want me to act as look out?" Came a whisper from behind the Time Lord. The trio whirled around in surprise to see a man with curly dark hair in a trench coat standing behind them with one hand in his coat pocket. Jack immediately tensed and the Doctor lowered his device,

"Oh, hello there" he began, "do you live here?" Donna suddenly stepped forward,

"Mr. Holmes, I've come about the watch." The Detective's eyes fastened onto the woman,

"Ms. Noble, I was wondering when you'd show up." He smiled but his eyes remained cold and the brilliant mind seemed to dominate the heart once more. "May I ask who these men are?"

"Doctor John Smith," the Doctor immediately replied as he pulled out his physic paper, "I've got a warrant to search this house." Sherlock snatched the 'warrant' and glanced at it.

"It's blank." He said simply with a fierce look at the thin man, "What are you trying to pull?" Jack raised his eyebrows,

"Wow, that's not something you hear every day." He said. The Doctor shared his puzzlement it seemed,

"You're sure it's blank?" He asked in a slightly higher voice his eyes screamed curiosity and confusion. Sherlock leaned closer,

"Positive." He turned to Donna, "Ms. Noble, I don't believe you gave me quite enough truth to satisfy me. Is the watch really yours?" Donna glanced at her traveling companion, who broke into the conversation.

"No, the watch is mine." He supplied as he leaned slightly to the side. The consulting detective allowed his eyes to wander over the man. _Antique suite but it's in prime condition, most likely a gift. He doesn't have a phone or wallet on him. Shoes are worn so he tends to do quite a bit of running. Possibly he 's attracted to danger. He looks young enough but it's clear that his mind is very much matured and he knows a lot more than he's letting on. He's also attached to these people with him. The other man has a military air about him but is also eager for any and all attention. His clothes are also fairly well kept but show more sign of wear than his thin friend. Both men seem to be fond of getting themselves into scrapes. However, the man in brown tends to do more traveling and is better known to the temp, seems to me that the military man just recently joined into this little escapade. Probably only just before or right after Donna came to me and he also knows more than he's letting on. Looks to me as if they're keeping poor Ms. Noble in the dark, what aren't they telling this woman? Anyway, this 'Dr. John Smith' as he calls himself (he's obviously not a doctor of any kind) is a horrible liar._ These thoughts raced quickly through the Detective's brain before he answered the Doctor,

"The watch isn't yours." He stated with an even voice. Jack blinked,

"How can you be so certain?" He asked, "Capt. Jack Harkness by the way." He introduced himself and stuck out his hand. Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored the attempted hand shake. _Great, he not only wants attention but he actively tries to get it. It's like having an idiot and an imbecile all rolled into one._

"Jack, shut up." The Doctor ordered without taking his eyes off of the famous Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock turned his attention back onto the Doctor,

"I can tell the watch isn't yours because your fingerprints weren't on it." The Doctor raised an eyebrow,

"Yeah?" He asked, "And how can you be so certain about that?" The Detective's expression didn't change,

"Because there were only one set of fingerprints on the watch that were unknown to me but when Donna left her phone number here I was able to get samples of her fingerprint and discovered that the ones on the watch mach hers perfectly." Jack whistled to show his amazement and Mullin in her hiding place beamed with pride. The Detective continued, "Unless you can give me substantial proof that the watch is indeed yours I'm afraid that I can't give it to you." He watched the thin man's reaction. _He's obviously not use to having things refused to him and he is the one in charge. However, it seems that he also knows the importance of the watch…which means that he is possibly alien. He continues to keep Ms. Noble in the dark, possibly a protection strategy but also maybe he doesn't think her important or smart enough to understand. She is downplayed quite a bit, I see. In addition, he keeps scanning the room; he knows that Mullin is somewhere but he's not sure how much I know so he's trying to be discreet. And he's also failing at being discreet. He's failing horribly. John could be more discreet than that. Without even trying._ The Doctor was glancing around mostly hunting for words to prove a watch that definitely wasn't his was without a doubt his and his alone. Sherlock tilted his head to the side, "Did you lose something?" He ventured at last. The Doctor looked towards him with a blank expression on his face. _Looses attention easily._ The Detective added to his growing list of information.

"Hm?" John Smith asked, "Lost? Oh, no I haven't lost anything other than the watch." He said as he eyed the Detective again. Sherlock sighed,

"Get out of my flat." He ordered with sternness in his voice that he only used when he was thoroughly fed up with Mycroft. "Until you have substantial proof that you are the legal owners of this watch I won't give it to you." With this he sidestepped Jack and pulled the door open, "Good-bye." Donna glared at him,

"You can't do that! If he says that the watch is his, it's his. You've no right to keep it from him!" Sherlock looked at the angered temp.

"Ask them what right they have to keep you in the dark. They're hiding quite a bit from you, Ms. Noble. I don't think you quite understand what this watch is but it is most definitely not your friend's." There was an awkward silence before the Doctor stormed out of the room followed by Donna and last of all Jack, who brushed up roughly against the Detective and vanished down the stairs. Sherlock shut the door but stood by it until he heard the front door shut. He let out a deep breath,

"Mullin?" He called and soon he saw her peering out from the kitchen. She was in her original form and the light around her was flickering, matching her curiosity and excitement of the moment,

"Are they gone?" She asked quietly. Sherlock nodded, "Who were they?" Mullin demanded as she handed the watch to the Time Lord,

"I don't know." Sherlock said simply, "I can safely say that the two men know what the watch is which means that they are aware of alien life outside of earth, or perhaps they are aliens themselves."

"And what about Donna?"

"She doesn't seem to know what's going on but she knows the skinny man rather well…she probably knows more about the universe than any other human in London." He muttered quietly then he smiled at his companion of old, "I wouldn't worry too much about it but I would recommend that you stay away from work for at least the rest of the day. Call me if anything happens." He hesitated a moment, "I'll see you home," he ventured at last, "I need to stop somewhere on the way back."

The two came out into the busy streets once Mullin had resumed her undercover appearance. Sherlock fingered the watch which now hung from a chain around his neck. A short cab ride soon found them outside of Molly Hooper's residence, they stood in an uncomfortable silence for a short while.

"So, um, bye…I guess." Molly said at last with a gentle smile and turned to go in,

"Keep your doors locked and bolted, if you can." She turned towards him,

"I will, though I'm not sure if it'll help. He got into the hospital without anyone noticing or questioning him." Sherlock nodded,

"Alright, call if you need anything." He reminded her,

"I will." She said happily and disappeared into the house. The Detective returned to the cab and directed the driver to take him to St. Bart's Hospital. He still had to run those tests on the apple.

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 **I do really want to get this done, I just have a really busy life.**

 **~SimmonsButterflys**


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